


Mutability

by haloeverlasting



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book Club, M/M, Slow Burn, cw: relationship abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 108,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloeverlasting/pseuds/haloeverlasting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis meet in a book club. Life and fiction have their parallels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I can't believe this is actually happening. I've been working on this story for two years now and I'm THRILLED to finally share it. :) Many many MANY thanks to two of my all time favorite people [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) and [Ari](http://yesitstyles.tumblr.com) for your encouragement, honesty, and kick ass editing. 
> 
> Before you begin, please note the content warning. I solemnly swear to warn you about anything that may be tough to read in a given chapter. And never fear, there's no Dark!Harry here (or dark!Louis for that matter).  
> On that note, this chapter does have some mentions of mental illness as one supporting character deals with chronic depression and Louis has some growing to do. Please keep that in mind. 
> 
> Are you still here? Bless you. I promise this story isn't nearly as draining as my content warnings suggest. :)

One early morning, Louis Tomlinson finds himself on a mission so urgent, the only sound he can afford to pay mind to is that of his feet patting quickly against the pavement. It’s Monday, and his list for the office coffee run is longer than usual. His expected time of completion, however, is not. Louis mutters under his breath about the injustice of his current position as he hurries through the quaint, busy streets of central Manchester.

Louis is a man of simple pleasures. A nice, black, Yorkshire tea in the morning suits him just fine. He will never understand the people in his office with their triple macchiatos and white mochas. He knows coffee is rubbish, but fluffing it up with these complicated words that make it taste better just seems like too much effort. Then again, these bastards don’t have to rattle off the order like a twat at the counter.

The broken coffee pot in the break room is only making everyone’s deadline anxiety worse. It’s also to blame for the unusual length of Louis’ list. It’s still unclear how a few highly caffeinated beverages are supposed to help keep everyone calm.

As the thought crosses his mind, Louis inhales deeply, regaining his focus. Working for _Modest Home and Garden_ is a remarkable opportunity, and though he’s apt to have a bitter streak, quitting isn’t really an option. The staff took a great risk in hiring him. He knows this because they tell him every day as a general reminder to _not_ complain about the coffee run. A degree in creative writing, after all, is of no legitimate use to a home and garden magazine.

As Louis walks, he daydreams of the day he might walk to a cafe to get his own work done. He always sees the writer types sitting at tables, clutching mugs and cooking up stories to share with the world, and often Louis has thought of joining them, even for a moment. He wants to ask what they’re working on, whether it’s a short story, or a poem, or something they saw the other day that captivated them long enough to file words away about it. He wonders how easily he could befriend them. At this rate, anyone is better than the editorial staff at _Modest Home and Garden_.

He’s beginning to believe they only hired him for a laugh, and if there’s one thing Louis has a hard time tolerating, it’s being mocked. If recently he’s taken to messing with his colleagues’ daily doses of caffeine as revenge for their cold hearts and the stacks of meaningless paperwork given to him, then he’ll never admit it—unless it gives him bragging rights.

Louis opens the door to the nearest Starbucks and shivers a little when he’s met with cold air. It’s a little early to be turning up the air conditioning, but he supposes that’s not his decision. Louis is more than pleased to find his favorite barista at the counter. He shoots him a wink and waits patiently in line before handing off the piece of paper to… erm, Liam. Yeah, that’s what the tag on his apron says.

“Good morning, Louis!” the barista smiles brightly. His grin remains unwavering though his eyes grow wider when Louis sets down his list. “The list looks longer today.”

“Yeah, it would seem my coffee bitch services are being used to their full potential today.”

The barista called Liam laughs softly, eyes crinkly as he writes the indecipherable shorthand on each cup. “You really should ask for something more challenging, Louis. Make them keep you busy with something important so the other interns have to give this duty a go.” Liam smiles absently, never looking up from the cup.

“Do you mean to tell me you’re tired of seeing me mug here every morning, Liam?”

Liam glances up and Louis catches the light pink dusting his cheeks.

Liam chuckles and shakes his head, “Never, mate. I just think these guys should get their own damn coffee sometime." 

Louis resolves  forevermore to remember Liam’s name.

“In a perfect world,” Louis sighs.

Liam’s eyes go crinkly again as he waves Louis off to the side to wait for his drinks. Louis might hate the Starbucks run, but he loves making the baristas laugh. He likes to believe that during the worst part of his day, he manages to be the best part of someone else’s. Someone’s got to be happy, even if he’s not, right?

After a few moments of waiting, his long list of drink orders begins trickling out in cup-holder after cup-holder. Louis really isn’t looking forward to maneuvering the stack. Liam looks concerned as he helps place the stacks in his hands.

“You gonna be alright with all these?”

Louis nods. “It’s just down the road anyway. I’ll be fine.” He wonders how utterly obvious it is that he’s only trying to convince himself. “Oh, Liam, did you make that small adjustment in the venti latte?”

Liam grins and nods once for emphasis. “Yes, Louis. I did remember that small adjustment.” He smirks. “Have a good day, alright?”

“Till tomorrow!” Louis calls as he steps carefully toward the door. A kind stranger holds it open and Louis makes his exit.

 After a long trudge along the now even busier sidewalks, Louis makes it back to the lobby of the building only five minutes later than usual and with a new love-hate relationship for the revolving doors out front.

He just manages to catch the elevator, thanks to a tall young man with dark eyes and a charming smirk.

“Quite the stack you’ve got there,” he says once the elevator swings slightly into motion. “Intern?”

Louis peeks over the top of his pile. “What gave me away? Was it the stack of coffee, or the deflated spirit I’m sporting?”

The stranger laughs. “Both, clearly. Actually, are you Louis?”

Louis nods, both corners of his mouth lowering, his furrowed brows the only thing visible over the tops of the cups. The man smiles, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I think you’ve got my coffee somewhere in there.”

 _You’ve got to be kidding me_ , Louis thinks as he sighs. “Well, which is it then?”

“Soy mocha with whip?” he replies, looking smug and guilty at the same time — his expression is as oxymoronic as his non-dairy drink containing a dairy product.

“Yes,” Louis says shortly. “It is somewhere in here. I’ll give it to you when we get upstairs.”

The man chuckles again, and Louis begins plotting to accidentally spill his oxymoron of a drink on him if he doesn’t get a thank you from this faux-kind asshole. When he does hand the drink off, the stranger says, “Thank you, Louis. I’m sorry that getting my coffee has deflated your spirit.”

Louis is appeased by the comment, and offers a small smile. “You’re welcome…” He stalls, waiting for a name.

“Cameron,” the gentleman offers.

“You’re welcome then, Cameron,” Louis nods in farewell before delivering the rest of his drinks.

 

 

When the clock strikes four, Louis nearly leaps up from his seat. He hums softly as he packs up his things, and lightly tucks away his fringe before walking towards the exit.

“Tomlinson!” The booming voice comes from the office door of none other than Simon Cowell. He is not a man to be ignored, so Louis immediately turns around and peeks into his office.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you making another coffee run?”

Louis tries very hard to maintain a neutral expression. “No sir, I’m off for the day.”

Simon just looks so... _sad_. It means Louis’ plan has worked. After two weeks of upping his caffeine dosage by half and sometimes quarter increments, today was the day he had Liam switch him to decaf. Louis tries not to giggle outright as Cowell yawns. “Fine then, off you go.”

“Thanks, sir. Maybe a nap is in order later?” he grins.

Cowell clearly doesn’t see what’s worth grinning about, so Louis nods his farewell and nearly skips to the elevator. Sweet freedom is sweet indeed. Walking down the street to the first crosswalk, Louis looks forward to spending the rest of his day on the couch with that delicious wine Zayn left at his flat and — his phone rings.

Louis looks down at the screen and sees his sister’s face. He smiles to himself before sliding his thumb right to left to answer the call.

“Hey, Lots! How’s your day?”

He finds himself blindsided by a concerned tone, and a different voice.

“Louis, hi. Sorry to bother you. It’s Madi, Lottie’s roommate? I didn’t have your number and I really needed to get a hold of you.” Madi huffs across the line before continuing, “Lottie’s not left her room again. It’s been three days. Could you come over? She missed her lectures today and I’m just getting worried. I’m so sorry if it’s a bad time.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he hushes her, hoping he’s helping her calm down. “What’s been going on exactly?”

Louis curses himself for not thinking to call in the last couple of days. It had been a busy weekend, with Zayn and Niall and some new weird sport he’d never played. He somehow managed to forget that he has responsibilities—like checking up on his sister once in awhile.

Madi dodges the question, but attests that Lottie’s doing very poorly, without saying it explicitly.

Louis quickens his pace, pushing his fringe out of his eyes again before breaking the sudden silence on the phone line. “I’m on my way, Madi. Thank you for calling, and be sure to remind me to give you my number, okay?”

“I can just steal it off Lottie’s phone now that I’m thinking of it, but thanks, Lou. Should I tell Lottie you’re coming?”

Louis shakes his head before remembering that Madi can’t see him. “No, love, it’s fine. You make the best of your Monday. Thanks for being an outstanding roommate and all that. Sorry she’s worried you.”

“She’s my friend too, Louis. It’s no trouble, honestly.”

Louis nods and sends his thanks before hanging up the call. His heart swells with gratitude for people like Madi and Lottie’s other close friends. He remembers how worried she had been last fall that she was going to have a rough go at making friends. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d really lucked out with her living situation. Madi has been nothing but compassionate, and when she says she cares for Lottie’s well being, Louis really believes her.

When he arrives at the dorm, he calls Lottie’s phone again so Madi can let him in. He sees her walking towards the door a couple minutes later, and they walk up the stairs together, Madi speaking a mile a minute, and Louis trying to catch all of it without tripping up the stairs.

“Thank God, Louis. I didn’t want to worry you too much on the phone… but it’s pretty bad this time. She won’t speak to me. Usually she’ll at least tell me to leave her be, but all she’s done the last three days is eat the small snacks I’ll bring her and lie there in the dark. She missed all her lectures today, and —”

Louis sighs when they make it to the door to her bedroom. Madi is still talking so Louis patiently sets his hands on both of her shoulders and says, “Don’t worry too much, love. I’ll do what I can.”

Louis walks past her and asks her to fix a sandwich for Lottie. He’ll let her know when it’s needed. He opens the door to Lottie’s room to find it dark. The fan in the corner blows softly, probably to supply enough noise to keep Lottie from going mad. He sits down on the floor beside her bed, and glances at his sister’s sleeping figure. Even in sleep, she looks tired. Louis frowns at the sight before bringing his hand to her shoulder. He just barely squeezes, and tugs lightly at the blonde locks hanging off her neck.

“Lottie?” he whispers.

He can see her eyes moving behind her eyelids.

“Love, would you wake up, please?”

Lottie slowly opens her eyes.

“Lou?” she asks.

Louis nods, knowing she doesn’t really need it confirmed.

“Hello there. Fancy getting out of bed for a bit?” He sees the hesitance before she can protest and continues, “Because you haven’t _really_ got a choice on that one.”

Lottie sighs. “Can we just stay here for a moment?”

“Only if you move over a bit. I could use a little nap myself.”

He tugs her hair again before she gives in to his request. Louis lies beside Lottie on top of her blanket, using his elbow to prop his head up while he allows her a few moments of silence. Finally, he asks the question she needs.

“So, what’s done it then?”

“You know what’s done it Louis. I’m sick,” Lottie replies. She pulls the blanket over the top of her head to hide her face from him.

Louis used to have a difficult time grasping Lottie’s illness. Her chronic depression sounded like an excuse to adolescent Louis, and so every time Lottie had done this — locked herself away and lain in the dark — Louis would ask how she’d become so sad. He’d ask the same question each time: what’s done it? Lottie had routinely replied that she was sick and that’s all. Louis had been relentless. Eventually, he’d discovered that his sister wasn’t always lying. Sometimes she was just sick and it felt like her whole world was caving in on her. She would say it felt like it was all her fault but she couldn’t tell you what “it” was.

Even after this discovery, Louis prided himself on his ability to get an answer from her at all--even a “just because” because it always led to something different. In his experience, Lottie always caves, and Louis likes to believe it’s because he’s just an incredible big brother. He knows before she does that something’s triggered her episode and that can only mean it’s his job to figure out what it is, every time.

“Well, have you been taking your medicine?” Louis pokes, gently.

Lottie sighs and shuts her eyes once more. “Do you think I’ve been taking my medicine, Louis?”

She’s annoyed, but Louis can’t be bothered. Annoyed is always better than numb.

“Well, rumor has it that you haven’t been eating nearly enough. And I don’t really see an empty glass anywhere, so I’m willing to bet that you’ve not been hydrating, let alone taking a drink to wash those pills down.”

“Nice work, Sherlock,” Lottie quips.

“And there’s that Tommo sarcasm we both know and love,” Louis teases her softly. “Let’s sit up, shall we?” He pokes his sister’s forehead, gently but incessantly, so that Lottie opens her eyes, though it’s merely so that Louis can watch her roll them.

“You’re insufferable, you know.”

Louis grins triumphantly as he sits up. “Yes I am, which means that you’ll be sitting up with me, yeah?” Lottie does so, unhappily. “So, really then, what’s done it? What’s turned you into a lump in the dark the past three days?” Lottie frowns at him before Louis throws his arm around her shoulders. “I mean, you’re a very pretty lump, Lottie, but still.”

Lottie offers an amused huff at that before looking down, and leaning against her brother’s side. “I’m fine, Louis.”

Louis laughs outright at that. “I know it’s been a bit since I’ve stopped by, but I know better than to believe that. Really, love, what’s happened? Why haven’t you been taking your meds?” He’s speaking to the top of Lottie’s head, but Louis knows she’s listening. She’s trying very hard not to look up at him, which means that he’s right, and she stopped taking her meds for a reason.

“No, really, it’s stupid. I mean—it’s an illness thing, but it wasn’t really, until I stopped with my meds.”

“So what happened to make you stop medicating?”

Lottie shakes her head against Louis’ chest and mutters, “It’s so stupid, Lou.”

Louis shakes his head right back. “I refuse to believe that. Whatever it is that’s made my incredibly strong-willed sister believe that she shouldn’t take care of herself anymore is in no way stupid. I demand to know what it is so that I can obliterate it.”

It’s silent for a moment, and Louis can feel Lottie weighing her options. Option A: she could come clean and reveal to Louis what’s got her so upset. Option B: she could stay huddled against her big brother for a little longer (relentless as he may be, Louis will _never_ deny any of his sisters a chance for a cuddle). Or even option C: she could cry and say it’s just her illness to avoid talking about the details a little while longer. Lottie’s smart though, and Louis knows she can’t really believe that the other options wouldn’t inevitably lead to the first.

Unsurprisingly, Louis feels Lottie sigh once more before spitting out, “Peter and I broke up.”

And instantly Louis feels himself melt. His poor baby sister’s just been dumped, or at least he assumes she’s been dumped. Did he hurt her? Cheat? What an utter prick. How could Peter turn his sister into this beautiful lump sitting in the dark for three days?

Louis feels sick. His sister’s been experiencing her first heartbreak alongside her depression and Louis’ been so oblivious. He’s been too concerned about long lists of fluffy caffeinated beverages, and sabotaging Simon Cowell’s day. He was more concerned with remembering a barista’s name today than wondering how his own sister may be fairing with her asshole boyfriend who shattered his sister’s heart into a billion pieces.

“I broke up with him, because things were getting bad again,” Lottie says, interrupting Louis’ internal tangent, and _oh_. Oh god, this is worse than Louis thought.

“Lottie, why the hell would you do that?”

“I told you, Lou. Things were getting bad. My assignments were really starting to wig me out, and I don’t want mum to see my grades and shriek. So I thought I should maybe break up with Peter to study more, but I didn’t… and then I just got worse, and I couldn’t very well cope with it and get rest and date him without dragging him down with me. So I just… told him to fuck off,” Lottie admits.

“Lottie… you can’t just do that. You can’t just tell someone to fuck off when you don’t think someone wants to be there for you.”

Louis turns so he’s facing his sister. She looks up at him, big blue eyes beginning to brim with tears and Louis cups her face in his hands and squeezes her cheeks together.

“Lottie, you are so lovely and so wonderful and any lad would be lucky to have you. And as far as Peter is concerned, even as a lump, you’re too far out of his league anyway.”

Lottie releases a laugh, but it’s muffled through her squished cheeks. Louis wipes at a few stray tears with his thumb before continuing. “If you like him, though, then you should really give him the chance to be there for you before you push him out. If he doesn’t want it, he’ll show himself the door, love.”

“But I don’t want him to,” Lottie whispers, a few more tears escaping down her cheek. “I didn’t want to give him the chance. I’d rather push him out the door than watch him go and leave me alone in here.”

Louis nods his head. “Yes, but you see… either way you’ve been left alone. And there’s always a chance that he won’t let himself out, Lottie. You’ve pushed him out, but I’m willing to bet he hasn’t left the doorstep.”

Louis believes it too. When Lottie had introduced them, he’d seen the stars in Peter’s eyes.

Lottie sniffles a bit before reluctantly nodding her head. “He’s been calling. I just haven’t been awake to hear the ringing, and when I see the missed calls it’s just… it’s so embarrassing, Lou, I can’t…”

“Well, then come to mine for a bit. We’ll watch some shit telly, and Niall will bring us some takeout on his way home from work and we’ll wait for your phone to ring, yeah?”

It’s a pretty solid offer as far as Louis’ concerned. It’ll be good to get some extra substance in Lottie’s system, make her take her meds and also get her out of her dark room. Sunlight is good for the soul. He’s relieved to see Lottie nod and make a move for some new clothes before she gives Louis a look that makes him positive she’s not going to lie back down as soon as he leaves the room. He grins, ruffles her hair a bit and steps outside.

Madi is set in the kitchen with that sandwich Louis asked her to make, and he smiles when she shoves it towards him.

“Is she coming out or is that going in?”

“She’s coming out.” Louis picks up the sandwich and steals a bite for himself. He hadn’t really noticed his stomach growling until the second he saw the sandwich. Madi raises an eyebrow at him and laughs as Louis shrugs, stealing another bite.

 

 

Later that evening, Louis revels in the beauty that is wine and the settled feeling it’s placed in his gut, making him feel warm and heavy at the even greater sight of Lottie doubled over in laughter. Lottie rarely feels wholly happy, so when her eyes squint closed from the sheer force of genuine laughter, it makes Louis feel even more warm and content. Zayn had given him shit for finishing the bottle, but it’s only because Zayn was jealous to not be feeling the same warmth Louis has found himself encompassed with.

“No, really! I swear it’s the fuckin truth!” Niall is half yelling to the other end of the couch where Lottie is still giggling—pausing to catch her breath periodically before dissolving into another fit of laughter.

“Niall, there is no way. Absolutely no way that happened.”

“No. This old woman really came out of the only stall in the lad’s. She really did cup me arse, and she really did ask me to come to hers!”

Lottie released another belly laugh.

“But it’s too perfect,” she argues, eyes glittering. “There’s just no way this happened! Nothing this interesting ever happens to you, Niall. Your arse isn’t even that nice!”

“What are you even talking about, my arse is great! And my life has loads of interesting things in it! I’ve got all sorts of stories, don’t I, Lou?”

Louis grins. “Sure, Niall, you keep me endlessly entertained with your tales! You’ve got nothing on my arse, though.”

Louis sends a little wink his way when Niall pouts. He crosses his arms and let out a little harrumph before interjecting, “Don’t know why I asked another Tomlinson to defend me.”

Zayn, who is comfortably lounging in the arm-chair opposite Louis, smirks and interjects. “Niall, don’t worry too much. You can’t have both an exciting life and a nice arse, anyway. Take Lou for example. You may have nothing on his arse, but the most exciting part of his day was the wine he _stole_ from me.”

If Louis had feathers, he’s sure they’d be ruffled now. “Hey now! My arse has made my life very exciting, and if you two think otherwise, you are clearly just jealous! And it’s not stealing if no one’s name’s on it, Zayn. Finder’s Keepers.”

Niall shoots Lottie a satisfied look. “See, then. My life _is_ exciting.  You two can’t win ‘em all!”

Both Niall and Lottie giggle at that, though Louis can’t quite forgive his sister for admitting defeat.

Louis rolls his eyes, and it seems he does so with his whole face. “I don’t know what you two are talking about. I played a riveting game today called travelling Jenga! I stacked cups of Starbucks on top of each other and carried them across Manchester! If I’d carried an empty one, people probably would’ve thrown coins at me, my balancing act was so splendid. I even met this guy in the elevator who seemed quite impressed with me.”

Louis sighs when he realizes that even his defense is poor. Why is his life like this? He stops himself from pondering this further when he notices Lottie smirking across the room.

“What are you giving me that for? Got any better stories, Miss Lump?”

She shakes her head, the teasing smile still playing easily on her lips. She raises an eyebrow before asking, “Was he cute?”

Louis snorts. _Was he cute?_

“What on earth are you playing at?”

Lottie shrugs with that small smirk ever present. “Dunno. Just wondering.”

Zayn and Niall are staring at Louis expectantly. When he notices this sudden change of atmosphere, he  shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“What?” he finally asks. Not only is this silence unfair and infuriating, but the look Zayn is giving him is just plain creepy — something between expectant and amused.

“You never answered the question, Louis,” Zayn prods. His smile is playful, but his eyes are very serious. Niall is now sitting literally at the edge of his seat and he shrugs in agreement.

“What question?” Louis asks, attempting to sound as sincere as possible.

Niall gestures toward Lottie. “Did you think he was cute?”

“Jesus, is this really that important? I toyed with the idea of throwing his drink on him for being an ass. Would I do that if I fancied him?” Louis throws out, incredulous.

Honestly, was this even important? Louis had merely wanted to contribute reasons why his life was _awful_ , but still more exciting than Niall’s. He hadn’t expected this treatment. Being put on the spot was the worst way to earn a spotlight, in Louis’ opinion.

“Yes, actually. That’s exactly what you’d do,” Lottie rebuts.

Louis laughs. “You think I’d throw hot liquids at the people I like?”

“Now _that_ would make your life interesting, Lou,” Niall says.

Zayn shakes his head. “We want him to be social, Niall, not get arrested.”

Louis stands up to get a glass of water, because he is suddenly so parched, and he’s really not sure why.

“I _am_ social, and I don’t appreciate being _ganged up on_ ,” Louis says, bringing the water glass to his lips in a huff.

Zayn gives him a glance that makes Louis second guess nearly everything about himself before changing the subject back to more exciting things — like the case Zayn is currently working on, or if Niall has finished any songs recently. Because the truth is, they have much more to contribute to this conversation than he does. Louis doesn’t have much to show for himself, after all. The subject of his social life does die out, to his great relief.

Much later that evening, he drops Lottie off at her dormitory and arrives home to see Niall and Zayn asleep in the living room. Louis smiles fondly and immediately searches for a sharpie somewhere close by.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on posting: I don't know how many of you will actually care about how often this fic will be updated, but as a general warning, one of my betas is currently posting her own WIP as well as editing mine. So, as of now, we are posting on opposite weeks of each other. If all goes according to plan, I'll be updating every other Sunday/Monday. :) 
> 
> I promise you my author's notes won't usually be this long. Bear with me as this is my first chaptered effort. :) 
> 
> I hope you'll leave a comment or kudos, or even just say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com). I love feedback and I really love new friends, so don't be shy. :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> Thanks to the lovely [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) for helping me love this chapter. You're a gem. <3 
> 
> No major content warnings for this chapter. If you're sensitive to people being insensitive then just... bear with Louis here. Otherwise, enjoy!

The sun is warm and bright; the streets are busy, filled with purpose and something like joy; but Lottie is none of those things as she walks beside Louis at a forced pace. Louis tries to slow himself so that she doesn’t have to work so hard to keep up, but at the same time, he figures the sooner this is over the better.

 

Lottie’s mental state hasn’t improved much since that day last week. Usually Louis is the only one who can see that glint of sadness. It’s not usually so brash, but on this surprisingly warm April day, she looks like a day in February. The bags under her eyes are harsh and even her small smile, meant to offer Louis some reassurance, is bleak and chilled. She feels far away and angry — though Louis can’t imagine what exactly he’s done to warrant that.

A few days after the incident last week, Louis met Lottie with a cup of tea and a proposal — that she might need to see someone again. She’d been neglecting time with her therapist in favor of studies, and while the excuse was futile, there’s no forcing Lottie into anything she doesn’t want to do. She is a Tomlinson, after all. When Louis offered the idea of the school counselor instead of her therapist, Lottie’s hesitance didn’t last quite as long. She may not have had the energy to argue, but Louis is still grateful she agreed.

Everything seemed to have been going just fine. Lottie attended her sessions, and when he spoke with her on the phone the occasional evening, she seemed to feel better. But doubt washed over him when he heard his sister’s shaky voice on the line.

 

“Will you come with me tomorrow?”

 

Clearly, there was a wrong answer to this question. He thought he’d chosen the right one, but her countenance says otherwise.

 

They reach the building eventually, and Louis follows as Lottie walks down hallways and up staircases with the same ease with which she could navigate their childhood home. When they reach the office door, she stops abruptly and turns to face him. After a short breath, she meets Louis’ eyes.

 

“Be nice, okay?”

 

Louis doesn’t quite understand why she’d say this until she knocks and opens the office door. On the other side, he finds a young woman in a bright yellow dress with an even brighter smile. She hops up from her seat, setting a notebook on the table beside her. She bounds to the door and welcomes Lottie in before offering Louis her hand.

“You must be Louis. I’m _so_ pleased to meet you. Thank you for being here today. I’m Talia.” She says it all at once, her wide smile never dimming. Louis feels his face tighten. He’s so annoyed it’s overwhelming. Suddenly, Lottie’s request makes a lot of sense.

“Hello, Talia.”

Talia finally stops shaking Louis’ hand after one last tight squeeze. “Please, please, have a seat. Would you like any tea?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Louis says, shortly. He makes his way to Lottie’s side, and takes a seat beside her on the loveseat.

Talia brings a small teacup over to the loveseat and offers it to Lottie. “No sugar, right?”

Lottie accepts the tea and smiles genuinely for the first time since Louis arrived. What kind of peppy black magic is this? This counselor is like Niall on steroids.

Talia takes a seat with her own porcelain teacup in hand. She crosses her legs and leans forward just slightly.

“So Lottie, does Louis know exactly why he’s here?”

Louis looks over to Lottie and watches as she purses her lips. She shakes her head and glances to the ground. He has no idea what it could be that she’d like to talk about, and the fact that she didn’t come right out and say it before getting him in this room is concerning. Has he done something? Does she feel neglected?

He can’t help the way he shuffles nervously in his seat.

 

“Don’t be nervous, Louis. I only wanted to know if my introduction is necessary.”

 

Louis feels his jaw clench a little, irate. “It would seem it is necessary then.”

“Well, like I said I’m Talia. I usually refrain from saying this, but you should know that I’ve heard a lot about you. Lottie loves you, as I’m sure you know. I asked her if she’d like to bring you here because there are some things that she’d like to say to you. She’s just not sure how.”

She pauses, and Louis wonders if he’s supposed to say something in response.

“All I ask is that you remain patient.” Talia continues, “If she says anything you don’t like, please let her finish before responding. The best way for you both to feel validated and loved is if you let one another speak. I have a strict no interruptions policy, and I’m here to ensure it’s respected.”

Louis nearly rolls his eyes. This is about Lottie, not him. His feelings are irrelevant. He is a fully functioning adult who doesn’t need help after all.

“That’s fine. Does Lottie need a moment, before I get too comfortable?” He looks at Lottie, though the question is for Talia.

Lottie looks up at him, and when their eyes meet, Louis’ confusion is met with some clarity. As she shakes her head slowly, Louis sees this situation with a new pair of eyes. He still doesn’t quite understand why he’s here, but it isn’t because he’s hurt Lottie. He’s done absolutely nothing, but for some unforeseen reason, Lottie is worried about him. He can see it in her hands, the way they’re folded in her lap, and the downward set of her lips, and the small storm in her eyes.

“No,” she says softly. “Just stay.”

“Now, I know that you might have quite a few questions, Louis. But Lottie will answer them on her own time, and with help from me only when requested or if it seems necessary. Just please remember that this isn’t about me at all,” Talia says. “I am only here to make sure everything that needs to be said is out in the open, and that you both feel calm and safe here, alright?”

Louis nods. He has a lot of nervous energy, but he thinks in the moment that it’s because there’s a third person in the room that he’s meant to ignore for the time being. He isn’t sure why Lottie would have such a hard time expressing her concerns without Talia there.

 

Louis watches her play with the rings on her fingers. She bites her lip before saying, “Louis, I’m really bad at saying what I mean.”

Louis nods. “That’s okay, love. Usually I can piece it together.”

Lottie’s still avoiding his eyes when she smiles hesitantly and says, “Okay. But if I say something that makes you mad, you have to promise to let me finish.”

Louis nods. He’s awful at not interrupting, but if agreeing will get her to talk, then so be it, he’ll make a promise he can’t keep. Talia and her no interruptions policy are just going to have to deal with it.

“Louis, I’m really worried about you.”

She says it like it’s her best kept secret — quickly, with an ounce of guilt — and when she actually looks up at him, he sees the anxiety filling her insides. Like admitting that she’s worried about her big brother is something that could get her in trouble.

“Why would you be worried about me?”

“I can just… I can tell you’re unhappy. You’re so angry all the time, Louis, and not with me, but I can just tell. You hate your job, but you’re not looking for a new one, and you haven’t really seen anyone besides Zayn and Niall for years…”

“Lottie, I don’t see why any of that should concern you. I’m fine.”

 

“No interrupting, please,” Talia cuts in.

Louis forces himself to take a breath instead of telling her to fuck off. He knows he shouldn’t be this dismissive. He knows that he should take this time to really hear his sister out and validate her concerns, because she isn’t exactly wrong.

It’s what’s between the lines that bothers him. What Lottie’s not saying is that she knows he’s lonely, and Louis isn’t quite ready to admit that to himself, let alone his sister and this stranger who emanates more glee than he’s ever prepared for.

 

Who else would want to spend time with him anyway? Niall and Zayn have been around too long now to quit on him. That’s enough. That’s fine.

Lottie sighs, with a small hopeless shrug. “But that’s the problem, Louis. It does concern me. Do you know who you see besides Zayn and Niall? Me. You see me and you take care of me instead of taking care of yourself.”

 

Louis opens his mouth to speak, but Lottie holds up a finger.

“And I’m _grateful_ for that, but you’re so unhappy, Lou.”

Louis releases the breath he didn’t realized he was holding before shaking his head. “Lotts, that’s not your fault.”

Louis watches the wheels turn in his sister’s mind as she searches for a reply. He watches the distress fill her eyes before she finally asks, “But what if it is?”

 

Tears are falling down her face now, and Louis shakes his head absently while she continues. “You get on me all the time for not living my life, but I haven’t really seen you live yours, either —”

Lottie says it all in one breath as Louis keeps shaking his head stupidly.

“They’re not always gonna be around, Louis. You said yourself that Niall is going to go places eventually. And Zayn is doing so well, Lou, he’s moving up in the world, and he won’t always have time to see you.”

Louis wasn’t ready for any of this. He knows he’s going nowhere fast, but he never really let himself think about going nowhere without the best friends he’s ever had.

“Louis, I just think it’d be so good for you to meet someone. Anyone.” Lottie pauses before adding, “It doesn’t _have_ to be romantic, maybe just make some other friends so you have options. So I know you’re not just hanging out with me because you feel —”

“Quite frankly, Lottie, I don’t think that’s any of your business, so if you could kindly fuck off, I’d —”

Lottie rolls her eyes. “You promised not to interrupt!”

“You’re telling me how to live my life, Lottie! I’ve only ever encouraged you to live your life, I’ve never given you explicit instructions!”

“Oh really? We waited by my phone for hours the other day because —“

“Because you were making a mistake, Lottie. I was helping you realize that you were wrong. You need much more help than I do, okay?”

And that was probably one or twenty steps too far. Lottie’s eyes flame up with rage. It reminds Louis of when they were much younger, the look that had always sparked across her face just before she’d dissolve into ear-splitting screams. She glances at Talia and raises her eyebrows, as if they’ve talked about this, as if she’s predicted this very part of their discussion. Louis feels livid at the idea that this counselor thinks they should be talking about him at all, and he’s about to say as much when —

“Can I ask something?” Talia says from her plush chair.

Louis stares at her and her obnoxious yellow dress. Lottie nods on his behalf before Talia says, “I’m sensing some animosity here.”

Louis snorts. “No shit.”

Lottie sits back and shakes her head slightly as Louis purses his lips.

 _Shit,_ he thinks to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to cooperate, but he isn’t here for himself. He’s here for Lottie and he thought that was abundantly clear.

“Louis, would you mind elaborating on why your happiness is none of Lottie’s business?”

Louis uses every ounce of restraint he has to keep himself seated.

“Because, dear Talia, Lottie isn’t in here to discuss my love life, or my life at all, really. And I don’t see what my seeing anyone has anything to do with her growth, which you so clearly said is what we’re all here for.”

He knows he’s being venomous, and he knows he’s only making Lottie more pissed off. Her arms are crossed, and she harrumphs like a child.

“What if Lottie’s concern for you is causing a blockage in her own growth, Louis?”

“Then, as much as I love my sister, I think it’s important for her to realize that getting me a bloody boyfriend is not going to help her get better, so she needs to find another angle. A fucking relationship wouldn’t even fix _me_ , so why the hell would it fix her?”

Lottie sniffs from beside him, and only then does Louis realize that he’s made her cry. Fuck.

He mutters a second expletive aloud and tries to place an arm around Lottie’s shoulders but she pushes him away.

“I’m sorry Lottie, but it’s true.” He says it more defensively than he would have liked. “You can’t live vicariously through me or whatever, you have to live your own life.”

“Louis, this isn’t about your life improving the quality of mine, alright? It’s about this—this _idea_ that you have that you have it together and I don’t. You can’t just—you can’t ‘ _fix me_.’” She puts air quotes around his choice words, and Louis sighs. He _had_ said that, hadn’t he?

“Lottie, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fix you, you’re fine just the way you are.”

“But you are though, Louis. You always have been. I’m not a problem for you to solve, and even if I am broken, you can’t do anything about it. I’m not some distraction to keep you from fixing your own problems, alright?”

“For the last fucking time, I am _fine!_ ”

Okay, so that probably didn’t help his case.

“Louis?” Talia says.

“What?” he snaps.

“Louis, I’m sensing that what Lottie’s saying is very upsetting to you.”

“Damn right it is. Lottie can’t fix me either.”

Lottie snorts, and Louis wants to flick her head like he did when they were kids.  Talia shoots her a secret look that pisses Louis off before she turns back to him. “Louis, would you mind telling me a little about your friends?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m missing a few pieces here, and it would be helpful if you’d explain a few things.” Talia’s eyes are back to kind, but Louis is beginning to feel like this is a trap. Like Talia’s kind eyes are only meant to probe him.

Louis sighs and says, “Niall and Zayn are my best mates from uni. We were all flatmates. Zayn moved out when he got into a school a little further away, so it’s just Niall and I. But Zayn still comes round a lot.”

“What do Zayn and Niall do?”

“Zayn is going to be a lawyer, and a damn good one. Works his ass off. Niall is a musician. He works at this pub that he plays in all the time, but lately he’s been playing all over town.”

“And remind me what you do, Louis?”

Louis knows he’s being analyzed. He can see it from the careful questions, and the way Talia looks at him as though he could break at any moment. It makes him angry, but he can’t let her see as much.

“I work for _Modest Home and Garden_. I’m an intern though, so I mostly just run errands and write in my free time.”

She nods. “And is that where you’d hoped to end up?”

Louis laughs. Oh, Talia. Very subtle. “Not exactly, no. I wanted to be a writer.”

“He still does. He’s quite good too, actually. Don’t know why he doesn’t submit anything,” Lottie slips in quickly.

Talia smiles. “Really? What do you write about, Louis?”

And that’s just really personal, isn’t it? Louis doesn’t even share his writing with Lottie often. Niall and Zayn read some of it on accident, but Louis has never handed anything to them for their opinion.

“I’d rather not say, really.”

Talia shrugs. “Okay. Well, do you ever share your writing?”

“Not really, no. It’s personal. I’ve only shown Lottie a couple of things because I thought she’d think they were funny. I wanted to make her laugh, is all.”

Lottie smiles at that, and it makes all this feel a little better.

“Did you ever share your writing in class? I’m assuming you studied something like that if that’s the line of work you’re in.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, uh, creative writing.”

“He was so happy then, Talia,” Lottie interjects. “He got straight A’s and he shaved and he would always tell me stories about how surprised he was when stuff he wrote was featured in class. They loved Louis and his work so much.”

Lottie is speaking very fast and Louis’ cheeks are warming. He feels the scruff on his chin self-consciously. Is that really what Lottie thinks of him? That when the praise and encouragement disappeared he stopped taking care of himself?

“Yeah well, it turns out they were the only ones that liked it, Lottie. I don’t understand what that has to do with anything, alright? That time is over, and now I work for a home and garden magazine and I’m on a first name basis with the baristas at Starbucks because I make the office coffee run so often. That’s just life right now. It is what it is and I’m fine, Lottie.”

“…Are any of the baristas cute?” she asks, softly.

Louis shakes his head and laughs because, honestly?

“Good God, Lottie. Let it go.”

Talia chuckles from her seat. “Louis, have you ever thought of joining a safe space for your writing? Give yourself someone to write for?”

“Not really. I just don’t think it’d be a good idea.”

When Talia asks Louis why not, he doesn’t really have a good answer.

“I’m just… I have some very different views of the world. And I don’t think other writers appreciate them much.”

Talia is going to ask Louis what his strange views are, he can feel it...but she doesn’t. Instead she asks, “Well, do you enjoy reading?”

Louis nods. “I mean, yeah. I haven’t done much of it since school, but it’s alright.”

“Well, Lottie and I were just discussing yesterday that it might be good for her to be exposed to other views, and a good, healthy place for those ideas to be applied is in a literature class. Everyone reads the same material, so different views are imposed on the same ideas and it can be very challenging, but also inspiring.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t really know about all that. I can’t go back to school.”

“What if you didn’t have to?”

Louis raises one eyebrow before shrugging. “Well then I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to say, Talia.”

“What if you joined a book club? Lottie could go with you. You could read books together and talk about your own views in a safe space, and get to know each other’s better.”

“I guess I’m just not sure how this would help Lottie…” Louis replies.

It may be a piss poor attempt at an excuse, but he really isn’t sure. Louis remembers the sort of confidence he felt in school, a confidence he could rely on that had disappeared. But he didn’t come to this office to be advised on his own wellbeing, and he really didn’t know how a book club could help Lottie.

“Well, Louis. From what I’ve seen here, it seems you and Lottie both share a habit of imposing your views on other people. Lottie has expressed often feeling in the way, and as though she is a trouble to you, even though you have said nothing that should make her feel this way. From what I can see, you feel a great amount of concern for your sister, but it isn’t nearly as big of a hurdle in your life to take care of her as she thinks it is.”

Talia expresses all this very calmly. It’s calculated and well thought out and Louis is nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, exactly. Lottie worries way too much.”

Talia offers a small pursed-lip smile. “And you, Louis. You have expressed several times in just the last half hour that Lottie is the one who needs help. You’ve projected this image of helplessness onto your sister that has prevented you from seeing her views and taking them seriously.”

“ _Excuse_ me. I take my sister very seriously!” Louis argues. Talia doesn’t know what she’s talking about if she thinks Louis sees his sister as helpless. He only wants to help _her_ help herself!

“I believe you, Louis. But if you want to help your sister, I think you should work alongside one another for your own wellbeing. A book club is the solution I am suggesting.”

Louis sighs and offers a small nod. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Talia smiles. “Well, it seems our time is up. Lottie, same time next week?”

 

Lottie agrees.

“Would you like your brother to join us again?”

Lottie shakes her head. “I’d only like for him to make up his mind by tomorrow. About the book club.”

Louis shrugs dismissively. “I suppose, yeah. I’ll know by tomorrow.

And that was that. Louis would be feeling resentful, having been cornered the way he was, were it not for the clear blue skies in Lottie’s eyes. She seems much calmer, and if that’s really all it took, then maybe any efforts suggested could be worth it. Maybe.

 

“Niall, do you think I’m unhappy?”

Niall’s been home for around an hour, and this is the first Louis’ spoken a word to him. He’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling as Niall sits on the floor with his phone in his hand and a bowl of nuts to his right.

“Hmph?” Niall replies with his mouth full.

“I asked if you think I’m unhappy.”

Niall shrugs, chews a bit more, and after a moment he says, “Well, yeah. I mean you’ve even said as much for months, mate. Why?”

Louis groans. He really thought he’d hidden it well. Most of his jokes were accompanied by a complaint, but Louis always complains. It’s, like, his _thing_. He’s always been on the dramatic side of things, so he thought he’d been acting normal.

“Do I bring you down, though? Am I depressing to be around?”

Niall chuckles. “I mean, not really, but only because you’re not around much, mate. When you get back from work you sort of check out, crack a few jokes, make a few complaints, have a few too many drinks and go to sleep. Why? Where’s this comin’ from?”

“Nowhere, really. Just wondering,” Louis sighs, sort of hoping to avoid further discussion. “Is Zayn coming? I’m starving.” He’s been complaining all this time, so why stop now?

“He said he can’t come tonight. Got a lot of work he had to bring home from the office. It’s shit man, he’s been working so hard lately.”

It’s true. Zayn has always worked hard, which is why he isn’t living with them anymore. As one of the youngest new additions at his law firm, he’s found himself among the brightest. When he really thinks about it, Louis misses the days when Zayn was around to tell him to fuck off. He misses poking and prodding him while he reads hypothetical cases. Well, not always hypothetical anymore, which might be why he isn’t reading cases here. It’s much more dire that Zayn read uninterrupted now that his cases are often real and very expensive. Still, Louis wants Zayn _here_ because having Zayn here means he might get some quality self-reflection in. Niall is just useless, sitting there, eating his nuts and not cooking Louis’ dinner.

“Yeah… that is shit,” is Louis’ response. He casually glances to the window to see raindrops adorning it. “Can’t really grill tonight anyway, can we — with the rain.”

Niall gets up and pulls something out of the coupon drawer. “You want pepperoni or cheese then?”

That’s a good lad.

“Cheese, please!”

When Niall goes to find his phone, Louis realizes he doesn’t know the location of his own. He makes his way to his bedroom in hopes of finding it on his bed. His suspicions are correct, and Louis immediately clicks his home button to check for messages. He unlocks his iPhone to take a closer look at his texts.

There’s one e-mail that he’ll check later, and three texts from Zayn complaining about all the paperwork he has to do. Louis chuckles knowingly. If anyone understands some of Zayn’s massive stack of paperwork woes, it would be Louis.

 

There’s also a message from Lottie. Louis doesn’t have to open their conversation to see the short message: _Check your e-mail!!!!!_

When Louis opens his e-mail inbox to find a message from a Ms. Talia Redd, Louis shakes his head and returns to his home screen, leaving both the email and Lottie’s text message seemingly unread. He knows that the contents of that email can only be one thing, and Louis isn’t set on his decision yet.

A book club sounds an awful lot like some lame attempt to enrich his shitty life. Wasting his time reading books he’s not interested in isn’t going to make Louis feel enriched at all. And yet, he’s felt this ache in his chest, urging him to admit that this might be exactly what he needs.

Earlier he had been too proud to admit it. Saying he’d even think about it had felt too much like admitting defeat. But Talia might have a point, at least about the inspiration thing. The last time Louis had both written frequently and been proud of his work was during uni, when he’d also been reading vigorously. He’d lost his taste for it after graduation mostly because he didn’t have a degree riding on it anymore.

The bit about seeing other perspectives was bullshit though. Louis understands other people just fine. Not everyone is going to agree with him, and the people who don’t are usually assholes he doesn’t want to associate with anyway. It doesn’t mean he’s incapable of hearing other people out. He just doesn’t associate with them afterwards. People can take him or leave him, and usually they do just that without any warning.

His friends don’t even agree with him all the time. In fact, Louis’ been caught in several heated arguments with Zayn before, and even Niall, though all were forgotten in favor of pints and a laugh.

Louis has no problem with at least acknowledging that their perspectives are different from his. But even if they don’t agree, he loves them, and they love him. People in a book club wouldn’t love him. They wouldn’t care about him, so why should he give a shit about what they think of some random book? Even his professors had cared for Louis more than any random group of strangers could.

Still, Lottie is pushing him to read this email, which means that if nothing else, doing this would mean a lot to her. Louis isn’t one to avoid something that might make his sister happy. He might only think on it for a second to ease the guilt of ignoring it altogether. If Louis says no to at least trying it, it might cause an even bigger issue.

Louis lies down on his bed, feeling the cool duvet under his arms. He reaches under his pillow and pulls out his favorite journal. It’s very small, with worn pages held together by black leather. It quite literally looks like a little black book, which Zayn has teased him mercilessly for. Whenever he caught Louis looking through it in their old flat, he asked if he was looking for an old flame to hit up. Louis had laughed because Zayn wasn’t entirely wrong. No one has peered into this notebook but himself, because it contains nonsense, really. No one would understand why the moments in this journal are significant, or what they mean to him. Hell, Louis isn’t sure what they mean to him all the time. It’s in this book that he’d written about some old homeless man, this woman he saw years ago at uni with a walk so confident it was clear she had no idea her skirt was tucked into her underwear in the back. There were descriptions of his best friends on good days and bad, and some names he wishes he could forget.

They were old flames in the sense that when Louis had seen these people, they had made him feel something — less alone, maybe. There are people he’s admired, people who have made him laugh, people he still loves well, and people who don’t deserve that anymore.

 

The portraits in this notebook are evidence that Louis has lived a life. He looks for it on days when he feels like he doesn’t amount to much. At least this book is something he made, and that amounts to something.

He hasn’t written in it for a very long time. He had stopped seeing the world with these eyes long ago when he’d realized that being remembered happened when you actually lived, not when you tried too hard to prove it. Remembering and being remembered became a noose. One that pulled tighter and tighter until Louis wasn’t sure whether he made decisions for himself or for an inexistent audience. Louis is still proud of the book’s contents, but looking at it now with these world-weary eyes, he realizes exactly how uninspired he’s been.

He used to be a hopeless romantic. He’d found beauty in everything and everyone. Even sadness had been beautiful because it could be felt so profoundly. Louis used to think that sadness could be heavy, but without it, the world wouldn’t seem as bright — as though the weight would eventually lift itself, or drain through you, making you feel lighter than before just from being rid of it.

Louis has been sad for so long now that he isn’t sure what that sort of weightlessness could possibly be like. He isn’t depressed. At least he doesn’t think so. He’s just in a very different headspace than everyone else.

Without thinking, Louis finds himself opening the email in his inbox. He looks at the greeting

“Hello Louis…” and stops.

 _Reading on isn’t an agreement,_ Louis rationalizes. It’s merely taking some sort of action. This is him considering it.

_Hello Louis,_

_Lottie gave me this address to contact you with more information on the suggestion we talked about today. I found one particular book club close to the university. It will begin meeting at the Café Milo on Thursday afternoons at 3. The person who’s started it is fond of the classics, so I’m not sure if you’re familiar with most of his reading list already, but maybe familiar ground would be a good place for you to start. I also thought that a book club just getting its start would also be more comfortable for you and Lottie than a group of people already familiar with one another._

_Of course this is merely a suggestion. If you’d like to search elsewhere or if you have decided against it altogether, it is up to you. I cannot force you into anything, of course, but I do hope you will at least give it a go. It might be better than you think._

 

_Thank you for your time, Louis. I wish you the best!_

_Talia Redd_

There’s an attachment. Louis opens it to see a poster with a similar description of the book club. It seems a Sir Nicholas Grimshaw has hopes of sharing his passion for classic British Literature with the world. Louis shakes his head at the thought. Aren’t most book clubs into contemporary options with hot button issues? Most of the classics he can name off the top of his head are ones he read before uni. Still, Talia has a point about treading familiar ground. And Louis would never admit it to them, but he does remember enjoying most of the selections his old teachers had set in front of him all those years ago. He wouldn’t turn down an excuse to read some more Charles Dickens and such…

Not that he would be excited about it. This would still be a duty—a brotherly duty. He’s indulging his sister and her needs. He has no such needs, and if he really wanted to read more Dickens, he would, without the urging of a book club.

Mind made up, he opens the text message from Lottie to write a reply.

_It seems we have plans next Thursday at 3. Are you free?_

Lottie replies not a minute later with a long string of celebratory emojis, followed by a thumbs up and a smile. Louis will take that as a yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you so please. (It would greatly please me. ;D)  
> Also, come say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com)! I like new friends. :) And while you're there, maybe reblog my [fic post](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/post/148073365969/mutability-harry-and-louis-meet-at-a-book-club)? 
> 
> Thank youuuu! Byyyyye! <3


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I'd like to say two things before you begin. 
> 
> 1) I hope you love book club crew as much as I do.  
> 2) RIP Nick Grimshaw's Quiff. I miss it more every day. 
> 
> Thanks as always to [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) for your helpful and thoughtful edits. <3

There is a wrong answer to every question. At least that’s what Harry thinks, having come to a standstill on the street corner. There’s _especially_ a wrong answer to this one. Local coffee? Or Starbucks? It sounds so stupid, even now in his head, but there is a wrong answer to _every_ question.

He wants to pick up Cameron’s coffee at Starbucks because he’d really like to see Liam. Cam might scoff at the famous logo, but the brand wouldn’t be the real problem. Cam doesn’t want Harry to see Liam.

Harry’s got nothing against local businesses. They’re great, and usually have more organic options, and not to mention grabbing a coffee from this one will save him the time and the argument.

Then, like touching a bad bruise, Harry counts in his head exactly how long it’s been since he’s seen his best friend. He glances at his watch and finds that he still has a few minutes to spare, so maybe he could just pop in to say hello to Liam before going to Café Milo across the way. Everybody wins.

Harry sees Liam’s wide smile behind the counter and feels like he’s the real winner. Harry misses him something fierce. They just got a new shipment in at the library, so Harry’s been working overtime lately. Cameron lives life on a deadline, so he spends more time in the office than he should. Harry doesn’t want to miss an opportunity to spend any extra time with him.

Liam asks, occasionally, if Harry’s been avoiding him. Harry says no. It’s not that he means to. Not all the time. Despite the joy he feels at seeing Liam again, there’s always this looming guilt that swims through his mind. The part of Harry that just doesn’t want to admit to Liam that Cam has asked him not to see his best friend.

Liam waves enthusiastically. His crinkly-eyed smile makes Harry feel like he’s just returned from some long journey. Liam runs around the counter to envelop him in a tight bear hug. Harry rubs Liam’s back and smiles as the feeling of being missed warms his insides.

“Harry, mate, where have you been?”

“I told you, work’s been busy. Life and stuff,” Harry shrugs. “That’s why I’m here, actually. Missed you.”

Liam claps Harry’s shoulder.. “Well, what do ya want, Haz? It’s on me and you can sit with me while I take my ten!”

Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Sorry, Li, I actually just had a few minutes to stop in and say hi. I’m on my way to see Cam for his break.”

“Oh,” Liam says, his entire countenance slouching.

“But we should get coffee sometime, the two of us,” Harry amends.

Liam nods. “Yeah, I’d really like that. I’ve really missed you, mate.”

Harry offers a small smile before gesturing to the door. “I’ve got to get going. But text me and we’ll find some time, yeah?”

Liam squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “Yeah, I will. Gotta steal you away from Cameron sometime, Harry. He can’t have all your time!”

Harry notices the challenge in his voice, and grins as if it doesn’t make him feel worse. He reaches the door and turns to wave one last time. He sees Liam standing with his hip against the pastry case, apron in hand.

“Sure you don’t want any coffee?” he calls.

Harry shakes his head. “Thanks anyway, Li!”

The journey to Café Milo is short—a half jog across the street. He orders himself a black coffee with Cam’s regular and wonders if he could convince Cam to switch him. He loves the man, but he should really cut back on the soy mochas. God forbid Harry order anything else, or he’ll be accused of meddling.

Harry huffs and leans against the bar, where he’s been told to wait for his drink. Beside him on a barstool is a handsome gentleman. He’s a little older, with a charming smile. His hair is perfectly quiffed, and his body language is somewhat aggressive as he leans in Harry’s direction. Harry braces himself for a godawful line and an awkward rejection. He folds his arms in front of him and keeps his eyes down, hoping to avoid the situation altogether. He forces his eyes to linger on one particular speck of dried syrup on the counter and barely keeps from cursing under his breath when the gentleman eagerly says, “Excuse me?”

He looks up. It would be impolite to ignore the man outright.

“Hello! My name’s Nick Grimshaw.” He extends his hand to Harry for a handshake, which Harry awkwardly accepts. “I’m sure you’re very busy, but while you’re waiting I hoped I might ask you something. Do you enjoy reading?”

Harry’s brows furrow. “Yeah, books are...great. Why?”

This is the strangest attempt at flirting Harry has ever been on the receiving end of. Were he single, he might give this guy a real shot, though. Books are a great place to start.

“Well, I’m starting a book club. It’ll take place right here in this café, and I thought you looked like the type that might be interested.” He winks.

And, well, Harry isn’t really sure whether this is a come on or not anymore. The perplexed look on Harry’s face must be evident because Nick laughs.

“I promise you, this isn’t some weird trap. The flyer is right here, and I’ve got a few people signed up already. I’m just looking to create a larger group dynamic. If you like books, you should give it a go. Starts today.” He hands Harry the poster with a confident smile.

Harry smiles back and nods. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks for the invite.”

“Soy mocha!” the barista chimes in at the counter.

Harry looks up and thanks her. When he turns to go, he feels Nick’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, it’s just—I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh. I’m Harry,” he replies, with a self-conscious chuckle.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. I do hope you’ll think about it.” He points to the flyer once more.

“Yeah, thanks mate.”

Stuffing the flyer in his pocket, Harry hopes he can make it to the office before Cam’s coffee goes cold.

When Harry meets his journey’s end, the revolving door at _Modest Home and Gardens’_ headquarters gives him some trouble. He thinks his own clumsiness is getting the better of him, but when the door stops in its tracks for the third time, Harry realizes there is something very wrong with it. He only narrowly avoids spilling the coffee.

Harry makes his way to the elevator and hits the third floor button. He checks his watch and sees that he’s just a couple minutes later than usual, but hopefully Cameron won’t notice. He gets skittish when Harry is late to things, even though Harry’s always been a bumbler.

Harry runs a hand through his hair and fixes his shirt collar. The elevator dings once before the doors open. Harry steps out and the office comes to life with the sound of anxious typing and phones ringing. He takes a deep breath as he rounds the corner to the cubicle he’s visited time and time again these last two years. He always jokes with Cam that he wouldn’t know where to go if he ever managed to get a nicer office. Cam doesn’t think it’s near as funny as he does.

When he rounds the final corner, Harry halts. He’s surprised to see a young man standing in the doorway of Cam’s cubicle. The stranger is laughing with two coffees in hand, and when Harry steps forward he tries not to look as stunned as he feels. Harry’s not the jealous type. That’s not at all what this gut reaction—this _feeling_ —is.  

Harry has gone out of his way to avoid Liam for the last several weeks because Cameron doesn’t trust him. The belief has zero grounds to stand on, but he’s done his best to be a good partner anyway, even though it’s made him feel sick, making Liam worry he’s done something wrong. But here’s Cameron, with a coffee already in hand, laughing with this guy. This apparently hilarious man with sharp cheekbones and the most alarmingly beautiful eyes Harry’s ever seen.

“Oh hey, Haz, I completely forgot you were stopping by,” Cam says, standing from his seat. He approaches and brings a hand to Harry’s hip to pull him closer. “Harry, this is Louis. He’s an intern here. Louis, this is Harry, my fiancé.”

Louis smiles, and extends a hand. Harry hands Cameron his coffee and does the same. Harry looks straight into Louis’ striking blue eyes and surprisingly relaxes when Louis squeezes his hand. Whoever he is, he clearly doesn’t mean any harm. His eyes are kind and his smile sincere.

“Lovely to meet you, Harry. I’d apologize for stealing your thunder, but without this coffee run I would have died alone in the dark copy room.”

Harry laughs, despite himself. “It is lovely outside today, so I suppose I’m happy for you.”

“Just stopping by on your lunch then?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, this one’s been working late more. Haven’t seen much of him.”

“Explains all the soy mochas then. I keep telling him he should cut back on those.” Louis smirks, and Cam rolls his eyes. Harry laughs.

“I like him,” Harry says to Cam. “You should listen to this one if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Ha ha,” Cam says sarcastically, pulling Harry that much closer to kiss his cheek.

Louis smiles uncomfortably and claps Harry on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it then. Was nice to meet you.”

Cam waits until Louis’ a few feet away before he calls out, “Thanks for the coffee, Louis!”

When they’re alone, Cam loops his other arm around Harry’s waist and squeezes before pressing his forehead to Harry’s.

“So where’ve you been?” he asks. Harry can feel the skin on his forehead wrinkling as Cameron raises his eyebrows.

Harry furrows his own and wants to laugh at the way their foreheads rub together. “What d’you mean?”

“I just thought you’d be here a little sooner, is all. Wondered if you forgot about me.” When Harry moves back, Cam takes one of Harry’s hands in his own. Harry feels something in his stomach turning when Cam’s lips find his ring.

Harry grins. “I thought _you_ forgot about _me_.”

Cam kisses his ring again and leaves a trail up to his wrist. Harry feels his cheeks getting warmer, but he smirks. “Did you just use him to get you a _second_ afternoon coffee? Cameron, you’ve got a serious problem here.”

Cam laughs and brings his hands back to Harry’s waist, leaning in to kiss him. It’s short and it’s sweet. Cam pulls away mumbling, “Just shut up.”

Harry guffaws and sits down at the small table in the corner of Cam’s office. “I should just take that mocha back. God knows you don’t need it.”

“I thought you forgot about me! I needed a backup!”

“Yeah, sorry,” Harry shrugs. “I, uh, stopped in to see Liam for a minute. I think it just set me back.”

It’s incredible the way the air changes at the sound of Liam’s name. Harry sees Cameron’s jaw tense as he pointedly takes a swig of his mocha.

“And how is Liam?”

“Good,” Harry says. “We didn’t talk long, honestly. I just wanted to say a quick hello. He’s been proper distraught in the voicemails he’s left me lately.”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

Harry nods. He never can quite tell what it is about Liam that makes Cameron act this way — uneasy, a little on edge. Liam is quite literally the opposite of threatening. Harry gets up, walking around Cam’s office chair to go squeeze his shoulders. Cam reaches up for one of Harry’s hands, and it’s comforting. God knows Cam wouldn’t hold his hand if he was really upset. He’s still a little nervous when he sees Cam’s free hand fidgeting with the hem of his pant leg.

It’s uncomfortably silent for a moment while Cam takes another sip of his coffee. Harry can still hear the sound of incessant typing around him. It’s loud enough that he can barely hear himself think. When he looks down and sees the insecurity in Cam’s eyes, he feels an urge to call truce.

Harry smiles and raises his eyebrows mischievously. Leaning down slowly, he brings their lips together. The moment is small and intimate and just for them. When Harry pulls away he finds Cam rolling his eyes fondly.

Harry smiles back at him, dimples and all. All signs of tension evaporate, just as Harry hoped they would.

“God, I can’t wait to put a ring on this,” Cam announces quietly, both hands finding their way to Harry’s hips.

Chuckling, Harry grips Cam’s shoulder and replies, “You already did, Cam.”

Cam glances at the engagement ring sitting pretty on Harry’s finger. “I can’t wait to put a new ring on this, then,” he counters.

Harry just shakes his head and brings their lips together again for a quick, closed-mouth kiss.

“I better head back to work.”

Cameron grins. “Thanks for the coffee, love. See you at home?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll see you at home.”

 

The sound of a pen clicking at the other end of the table is driving Louis mad. It’s ceaseless. If it doesn’t stop any time soon, he’s is going to flip the table. He tries tapping his foot to match the rhythm, hoping to distract himself, but he can’t keep up with it.

Louis looks up to find the source of the clicking and sees a dainty girl with pink hair across the table. As irritated as he is, he feels a little relieved that someone else is anxious about being here. She must have felt his lingering stare because she looks up and makes eye contact with him.

When Louis darts his eyes to her pen and back to her face, her small smile disappears. She slowly sets the pen back on the table, sinking further into her chair.

“Sorry,” she murmurs.

Louis nods his thanks with a small smile.

He’s vaguely aware of the sound of Lottie’s fingers on her phone screen, tapping out a message to Peter. He lets his gaze wander from his own twiddling thumbs to the small smirk on Lottie’s face as she types. Louis has been right about a lot of things, but he’d been _very_ right about the Peter situation. When Lottie had finally called him, at Louis’ request, Lottie had been  relieved to find that Peter had been waiting day in and day out for that call, having believed he’d lost his chance. Louis might be a little concerned by the apparent intensity of the lad’s feelings, but he’s pleased to see his sister happy regardless.

Louis huffs and lifts his head to take in his surroundings. So far the members of this book club include that girl with the pink hair, some old woman, and Lottie. He silently hopes to see someone male walk through that door soon. Not because he isn’t comfortable with women. It’s mostly because Louis doesn’t want any extra attention because he’s the only guy in the room.

When an older guy with a perfect quiff walks in the door, Louis wishes he could retract his silent wish. Not only is this guy dressed to look much younger than he probably is (are those _plaid shorts?_ ), but he’s carrying a briefcase. He sits at the head of the table and removes a pair of sunglasses. Of course, he doesn’t place them on top of his head, or he would ruin that perfect quiff.

The bloke grins at the people around him and when he pulls out a binder, Louis is suddenly aware that this idiot is supposed to be in charge. He couldn’t even be honest with himself about his own age and dress appropriately! Louis can’t possibly be expected to follow the guidance of someone who carries a briefcase while wearing _plaid shorts_.

“I think we’re just waiting on a couple others, and then we’ll get started, yeah?” He nods enthusiastically.

Louis wants to vomit.

This book club is obviously something he’s very excited about, and he’s _old_ , but he probably thinks he can get on with twenty-somethings like a pedophile. That doesn’t technically make sense, but that’s beside the point. This guy thinks he’s _cool,_ and Louis is not about to indulge that or any of this.

He crosses his arms and sighs for the millionth time when the door opens once more. This time some kid with bright blue hair and a black tank that’s much too large for him walks in and hurries to a seat. He sets a spiral notebook down in front of him.

Louis wants to stand up and walk out of this place immediately. Is this book club some kind of support group in disguise? This kid looks like a fucking delinquent, and Louis is not about to sit in this circle and help him work through his repressed feelings with emo poetry he writes himself that’s inspired by Sylvia Plath or summat.

“Louis, what’s wrong with you?”

Louis shakes his head, snapping out of his internal monologue to see Lottie looking up at him expectantly.

“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m fine.”

Lottie huffs a small laugh and whispers, “Then stop grumbling to yourself like a freak.”

Before Louis can respond in his own defense, the Quiff coughs and drops his binder on the table, calling for attention.

“Alright, hello everyone. I’m Nick Grimshaw. So glad you could make it!” And when he says as much, you can tell he really means it. At this point Louis is only in his seat because he thinks the gent deserves his pity.

“So, before we get started, I’d really like to get to know all of you. I know it’s a lot to ask for a first meeting, but I’m hoping that we’re all here because we plan to keep attending. So let’s go round the room. Share your name and what brought you here.” Nick offers another one of those smirks that he probably thinks is a warm smile. When the other members look around the room at each other and then down at the table, Nick coughs and says, “Uh, you—with the blue hair, please start us off.”

The kid looks down, obviously not too pleased to be put on the spot. He runs his fingers through his thin blue fringe. “Uh, I’m Michael,” he mumbles, with a small wave to the strangers around him.

“Great, Michael,” Nick says, “and why are you here?”

Michael seems annoyed at the extra encouragement but replies anyway. “I mean, I just like books, I guess. Didn’t want to go to uni and take a class. Too much riding on all that.” He shrugs, and then looks down as if he’s afraid he’s shared too much. Louis is all the more convinced that this kid is a delinquent with a lot of feelings. Fuck it all.

Next to Michael is an elderly woman who giggles to herself as she says, “Hello everyone, I’m Elaine, and I’m here because my grandkids told me I need a hobby. I thought this was knitting club. But I do love a good book, so I think I’ll stay.”

Nick’s smirk actually contorts itself to look a little warmer, and he nods at her. “I’m so pleased to hear that Elaine. Welcome.”

She returns his grin with her own coy smile.

The girl with the light pink hair looks to Grimshaw to confirm that she’s next. Grimshaw nods, so she surveys the group and says, “I’m Perrie. I’m here because I needed something to do with my time. Figured it was worth a shot.” She concludes with a small smile that gives way to her aura of excitement.

And suddenly it’s Louis’ turn. He must not have realized fast enough -- now all eyes are on him. Nick the Quiff nods at him reassuringly. Louis purses and pops his lips before announcing, “I’m Louis.”

He stays quiet for a moment, earning himself another prodding from Nick. “And what brought you here, Louis?”

“My feet,” Louis quips.

He gets a small bout of laughter from the group. Even Nick has his head down, trying to hide his smile. “Good one, Louis. But why have you chosen to join the book club?”

Louis doesn’t mind a little extra attention. In fact, he’s still buzzing from having made everyone laugh moments ago, but now they expect something from him. He’s meant to find a way to relate, and he’s not here to do that. So when the silence becomes a bit awkward he says, “Well, that’s my business, innit?”

He’s clearly made Nick uncomfortable, but the others may never see as much with the way he masks it so immediately. “I suppose you only have to share with us what you’d like to, Louis. But if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.”

And now it’s Louis’ turn to squirm uncomfortably. “I don’t see how you’d have any idea about that. I’m here now, and the how and why isn’t so important to me. It’d do you some good to care a little less about that as well. You should be grateful anyone is here at all.”

Lottie has her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed. Louis would be sorry if it weren’t for the fact that Grimshaw is a prick. Louis doesn’t want to participate in a sharing circle, so the sooner he can establish himself as a bystander, the better.

Nick looks down and up again. “Alright then. Thank you Louis.”

The passive aggression is delicious.

He motions to Lottie who looks up with a deep breath, collecting herself.

“I’m Lottie. I’m here because some group discussion would do me and this idiot some good.”

She motions to Louis beside her. “I’m hoping that he’ll learn to play nicely and that I will learn a few things as well.”

Louis could kill his sister.

Okay, maybe not _kill_ her, but he definitely wants to rip her a new one. He can’t believe she’d call him out like that in front of everyone when he had just done so well creating his own first impression. He did not need any help, thanks.

Nick smiles reassuringly and pulls his binder back in front of him. “Thank you, Lottie.” He sends a smug smile back to Louis for good measure. Lottie’s life is so over.

“Well, if you didn’t hear me the first time, my name’s Nick Grimshaw and I’m the man behind this small operation.” He shrugs. From what Louis can sense, he’s more nervous than anyone in this room. “See, I believe very strongly in the power of a good book, and the value of sharing that with a group of people. That was completely lost on me at uni. I didn’t take advantage of it while I had it. And since they won’t let me, I figured this was a damn good alternative to actually teaching at a university.”

And there it is. It seems Grimshaw has a lot riding on this book club, and even if he isn’t about to admit it, Louis sees the stack of books beside Grimshaw as the first experiment. The members of his club each pull out a book, accepting their role as test subjects. Louis isn’t sure why he finds himself doing the same when he knows that he doesn’t want to run on the supplied wheel like a hamster to help Grimshaw out. It’s exhausting and it very likely will not get him anywhere. But as Lottie pulls the book close to her chest, Louis feels something in him tighten when he remembers what she’d said. Lottie hopes to learn some things.

So add running on a contraption that insults his own intellect to the list of things he would do for his sister.

“Thanks for being here everyone. Read this to start and I hope to see you all in a couple of weeks.”

And so everyone but Grimshaw leaves the room then, but Louis can’t help but notice how tightly people are clutching their books. Louis loosens his own grip then and hurries to beat the group to the door, dragging Lottie behind him.

 

Harry can’t shake the unsettled feeling in his stomach. It feels like every nerve in his body is thrumming with anxiety as he rounds the corner. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, like Cam or someone they know is going to find him out. He nears the small café, clutching the flyer gifted to him in one hand.

He can’t quite figure out why it all feels so _urgent_. Maybe it’s because of the fight he’d narrowly avoided with Cam. He just knows that Cam wouldn’t like this. Still, he needs to be here. He’s felt so lonely recently and if he can’t just see Liam—this could be a nice alternative, a distraction of sorts.

What Cam doesn’t know won’t hurt him, really.

Harry pulls the café door open and immediately sees the small crowd around the table. He sees the man who shook his hand earlier, talking animatedly about something, and just before Harry is about to make his way toward their group, he sees someone else.

He sees Louis. The guy he’d met in Cam’s office earlier. He looks disgruntled, and Harry might laugh at the look on his face before it registers that running into him is _bad_.

Harry’s never been great at thinking on his feet, so after what feels like several minutes of staring right at Louis with wide eyes, Harry walks straight to the counter. He considers turning around and walking back out the door but he feels horribly rude walking into a business establishment and not purchasing anything.

He orders a black coffee—decaf for this time of day—and takes a seat at the bar with his coffee in hand. He could leave, but he doesn’t really want to. If he’s caught he can pass it off as a minor addiction to caffeine. The only place he shouldn’t be caught is at the very table where Louis sits. He’d tell Cam in an instant, and then what would Harry do?

Harry uncoils in his seat, slumping over the counter and resting his head on his forearm. Really, he doesn’t know what Cam would do if he found out. He can’t think of any particularly scary outcome for his discovering Harry’s whereabouts. But for some reason, some _stupid_ reason, Harry is convinced that Cam wouldn’t like him being here. Cam doesn’t even like it when Harry’s friendly with the staff at the grocery store. Consciously making friends would make Cam feel inferior, and Harry’s too tired to have that fight again.

He’s lonely. He knows it. And something like this would be great for him. And maybe it doesn’t have to be a secret forever. There’s nothing threatening about it. Harry’s not here to pull anyone and by the looks of it, no one in this book club is really going to try to pull him either. He loves books, and the fact is, Cam doesn’t really want to talk to him about them anymore. What’s the harm in an outlet?

Then he hears a voice. A familiar voice—Louis’ voice—filled to the brim with snark. Harry sighs, remembering the reason he’s not at that table right now.

Maybe there are other book clubs out there. He pulls out his phone, and clicks in a little google search. He sips his coffee and scrolls through various Facebook pages, and at some point thinks he could join them all. A twinge of disappointment creeps to the forefront of his mind and he wonders if Louis would keep it to himself. He wonders if it would be fair of him to ask without offering any explanation.

When he feels a hand on his shoulder, Harry jumps in his seat.

“Sorry, sorry,” Nick mutters as he takes creeps up to Harry’s side. “I just noticed you walk in, but wondered why you didn’t join us.”

Harry takes a deep breath, still collecting himself after the fright Nick had given him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, avoiding eye contact. “I actually came with the intent of joining. But, erm, something just came over me. I chickened out.”  

Nick smiles, and reaches into his bag. “It’s not too late, mate. Take this home with you.”

He hands him a small book and Harry smiles down at it. “Wordsworth, then?”

“You a fan?”

Harry shakes his head. “Never read him. I love poetry though.”

“See, it’s a sign.” Nick smirks, but there’s warmth in his eyes. “Join us in a couple weeks. Can I get your email for updates?”

Harry hesitates, but writes his email address on a small slip of paper.

It feels like a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) and mourn the loss of The Quiff me. (I know its been a few weeks by now. Don't rush my grieving process and just indulge me pls.) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 <3 <3


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, friends! 
> 
> I'd like to thank [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) as per usual. Your time, efforts, and friendship are vastly appreciated. <3 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's short but sweet. :)

The book is staring at him. It doesn’t have eyes and it’s not even remotely close to him but Louis can _feel_ it staring straight through him from the kitchen counter. All he’s wanted all day was to enjoy the barbecued pork he and Niall slaved over and now he can’t stop thinking about the book sitting several feet away from him.

Niall is obliviously sitting on the other end of the sofa and spearing into his meat like all is right with the world, and Louis _should_ feel the same. Instead, he can’t stop thinking about his sister and how earnest she was about wanting to learn something—and how sincerely she had called him an idiot.

Lottie hadn’t spoken a single word to him as he’d walked her back from the book club to her campus. She was clearly angry with him, and Louis could sort of understand why. He had, after all, said he’d give this book club a chance, only to make a mockery of it the moment an opportunity was presented to him.

But that’s just the way that Louis _is_. Lottie should know that by now. And he’d basically admitted that he’d be coming back, regardless of his feelings, so Lottie should be happy. She won’t ever have to face that island of misfits alone.

Louis takes a bite of his food before sinking a little lower into the couch. Out of sight, out of mind, right? If he can’t see the book it doesn’t exist. It’s not beckoning for his attention if it can’t see him.

It’s just… from the way everyone else had been holding their books, Louis had gathered that they all were eager to get started—especially Lottie. He’s sure that Lottie would want him to at least _attempt_ that sort of enthusiasm.

Just when Louis resolves to slip away and succumb to the object of his guilt, the front door opens and shuts with a loud bang.

“Oi, Zayn, mate—you’ve got to stop just dropping the door like that,” Niall reprimands from the couch, never taking his eyes off the food on his plate.

“Sorry lads.”

Zayn makes his way to the refrigerator and pulls out a beer, asking if they’d like the same. Niall nods, forgetting that Zayn can’t see him from where he’s standing. Louis chuckles and tells Zayn to grab two more.

“What’s this?” Zayn asks, dropping the godforsaken book in Louis’ lap before handing him his beer. Louis jumps at the sudden presence of the book and immediately tosses it across the room.

“It’s nothing.”

Niall snorts when the book nearly knocks over a lamp on the far end table. “You okay there, Lou?”   
  
“Fine, fine. Just don’t particularly feel like reading,” Louis says, straight faced. He can feel Zayn staring down at him, but Louis pointedly avoids eye contact.

Zayn sips his beer with a smirk. “You sure about that, mate?”

Louis nods curtly, sipping his own beer and placing his empty plate on the table in front of them. “It’s for Lottie, is all it is.”

“Don’t know what his deal is, mate. He’s been awful skittish—hasn’t said a word to me since we sat down,” Niall offers from his seat.

“Can’t a man just sit on his couch and think a little?”

“Defensive… Dismissive…” Zayn looks at Louis curiously, and his smirk grows when Louis refuses to meet his eyes. “Avoiding eye contact. Lou, are you sleeping with someone?”

Louis very nearly does a spit take at that. “What the fuck, Zayn! _No,_ I am not. What about that book would lead you to _that_ conclusion?”

Zayn’s grin slowly disappears. He shrugs and takes a seat, leaning back against the couch. “Then what’s with you? Sure you’re not reading the book for the literary type you’re sleeping with?”

“There is no literary type, Zayn, _honestly_. You probably need to get laid worse than I do if you’re so obsessed me and me sex life.”

Zayn laughs at that outright. “I’ll have you know that I have been getting laid, like, frequently.” He reaches out and ruffles Louis’ hair. “If you would step out of this bubble of angst you’ve been living in for two seconds, perhaps you’d notice. Now what’s the book for?”

Louis avoids the question, but decides to step out of this “bubble of angst,” as Zayn so affectionately named it, to look Zayn over. His features are as pronounced and gorgeous as ever but he’s been letting his beard grow out. His hair is tousled just so. He looks soft. He’s clearly been taking care of himself but he does seem a lot more comfortable. It’s like he’s more relaxed, and almost settled. Like someone getting laid in the context of a steady, adult relationship. How could Louis have missed this?

“Are you seeing someone, then?” he asks.

Zayn rolls his eyes, but Louis doesn’t miss the warmth in them, which leaves as quickly as it came. “Maybe. Now answer my question.”

“It’s a book, okay.”

“Yeah? Which is, like, nothing out of the ordinary, Lou. I know your line of work. But why so defensive?”

“It’s a book that I have to read for, uh, reasons.”

“Those reasons being?” Zayn’s eyebrows rise to the top of his forehead, and he faces Louis with his palms open, ready to receive whatever Louis will offer.

Louis mumbles, “I joined a book club, alright.”

The laughter that ensues is infuriating. Zayn laughs softly, mostly in response to the booming laughter coming from Niall.

“Lads, it’s not like that,” he pouts. “I did it for Lottie, okay?”

Zayn is still laughing, but his eyes have grown a bit softer. “Mate, Niall and I have offered to take you out every weekend for, like, months. That’s a much better way to meet someone than a bloody book club. Unless you’re into middle aged women, I mean…”

Louis’ eyes narrow as he crosses his arms. “I swear to you, I’m not in this book club to meet anyone. I am _fine_. I am doing it for Lottie. She needs an outlet, and I need to read more to get my creative juices pumping or whatever, okay? It’s a thing I promised her I’d do, nothing more.”

“You’d rather your sister help you get your ‘juices pumping’ than us, Lou? Really?” Zayn’s eyes are sparkling like he’s made the funniest joke in the world. “There’d have been a lot less humiliation involved if you’d just done it our way.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis says as he stands. He picks the book up off the floor. “I’m going to go to my room now, and...” he glances at the cover, “William Wordsworth is going to be my _new_ best friend. Good old Willy will not mock me for having intellectual interests like classic literature. And he will be supportive of my decision to try new things.”

Louis begins stomping in the direction of his room when he realizes he’s forgotten his beer. He turns back to find Zayn and Niall looking up at him, still snickering in mutual amusement.

Louis picks up his beer. “And for the record, Willy also doesn’t give a shit if I’m seeing anyone else or not. He likes me just the way that I am, thanks.”

Louis begins walking back to his room, head held high and defiant. He’s reached his door when he hears Zayn call out, “Come on, Lou, we just want you and Willy to meet other people!”

“And we don’t mean your left hand, mate!” Niall calls out, and he hears his friends resume laughing in full force.

Louis slams his door. That comment does not deserve a verbal response. He looks back down at the book in his hands and works very hard at not chuckling because, god, Louis just went on a rant about a willy unintentionally. Fuck Wordsworth. Making an idiot of him before Louis’ even gotten to know him. Worst new best friend ever.

He drops to the floor and pulls out one of his trusty old pencils. He’s not quite sure what for, but if this is anything like the lit classes he took at uni, he’s going to need something to mark the parts he’s competent enough to discuss. He scoots over to his bedside and leans his back against the frame, pulling his knees up and setting the book between his thighs. He sighs as he opens it and finds a typed note in fucking _papyrus_ that reads:

_Since we’re just getting started, I hope this first book doesn’t scare any of you off. My only request for our first meeting is that you read the following pieces. If you’d like to read more, be my guest! These are just a few I’ve picked at random to get us started. We can discuss any piece you’d like at our next meeting. The Prelude, however, is non-negotiable._

_The Prelude, Book First_

_Strange Fits of Passion have I known_

_Three years she grew_

_A slumber did my spirit seal_

_Mutability_

_\- Nick G._

What kind of book even is this? Like, what kind of book club only reads parts of a book? This doesn’t make any sense at all. Before Louis can turn the page to find out, there’s knock at his door.

“Fuck off, Willy and I are having fun without you.”

Louis hears Zayn’s faint laughter in response outside the door before he realizes what he’s just said. “Fuck, Zayn, that’s clearly not what I meant. Open the fucking door.”

Zayn laughs a little louder. “Not sure I want to, mate.”

Louis stands up, walks to the door and opens it. “See, it’s safe. Now what do you want, I’m quite busy being more intelligent than you are.”

Zayn shakes his head. “You keep saying that word, mate… but I’m not quite sure it means what you think it means.” His smile is light and playful and Louis’ a sucker for a _Princess Bride_ reference. Of course he’s going to smile back.

“I resent that. What do you want?”

“Niall and I want you to come back out. We’ve run out of ways to mock you without you being there to provide the material.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You say this like it’s meant to make fun of me, but lucky for you I speak fluent Zayn and know what you’re really saying is that you’re lost without me and my quick exit from the room has given you separation anxiety.” Louis ruffles Zayn’s hair. “I’ll gladly relieve you.” Zayn fixes his hair in a hurry and begins to walk away, expecting Louis to follow, before Louis calls after him, “On one condition.”

Zayn turns to face him with a quizzical expression.

“I’ll come back out if you and Niall will let me read to you.” Louis’ smirking while he adds, “With the telly turned _off_ please.”

Louis can see Niall over Zayn’s shoulder as he lets his head fall back on the couch, exasperated, and Zayn looks hesitant but sighs in defeat anyway. “Sure, Lou, go ahead.”

Louis hums, satisfied, and follows Zayn out the to the living room.

Louis’ phone is ringing from his bedside table and his sleep-fogged brain resents the sound. It can’t be time to get up yet, can it? He’s only just let himself turn the light off. He picks his phone up off the nightstand where it sat on top of that damn book he’d tried reading aloud last night. When he glances at his phone he finds Lottie’s name and the time just above it. 7:24 am—an entire thirty-six minutes before Louis’ alarm was set to go off.

“Lottie, what the fuck are you calling me this early for?” he grumbles into the phone, bitterly.

“Well, Louis, I figured that you’d be up by now. Don’t you work this morning?”

“Not till 9, love. I don’t paint my face, which makes my morning routine much less intense than yours.” He huffs, rolling over. He might have taken the call, but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy his time under the warm blankets.

“Didn’t stop you from hogging the bathroom at home for at _least_ an hour every morning,” Lottie counters.

“I’ve grown as a person, Lottie. I don’t need the approval of my peers anymore. I can muss me hair a bit and call it styled and people will believe me.”

“Oh, whatever,” she sighs, and Louis can feel the magnitude of her eye roll.

“What are you even calling for, anyway?” Louis asks. She did, after all, interrupt his much needed rest.

“Oh, I just had this, um…” Lottie hesitates. “It was _a strange fit of passion_ , you see. I just had to, er, call you.”

“Lottie, I know you think you’re clever, but honestly, you can come up with better than that. You could have referenced the one with slumber in the title or some shit.”

“You _did_ read them then!” Lottie giggles. Her pleasure at Louis having caught the reference might be well worth the humiliation of having read such ridiculous phrases out to Niall and Zayn.

“Did you actually read them, though? Or just the list Nick sent us?”

“Oh he’s Nick now, huh? Someone have a crush?”

Lottie laughs loudly. “Oh fuck off. You said yourself that he’s _old_. Also, I have a boyfriend.”  

Louis grins. “People with boyfriends have crushes all the time, Lots.”

Lottie chuckles harshly again before asking, “Did you read them though? Like actually?”

Louis sighs into the receiver and nods against his pillow. “Yeah, erm, I did.”

“I’m glad,” she admits. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Well, I read it with the lads and that wasn’t the smartest decision. But, uh… sure, Lots. It wasn’t half bad.”

“Personally, I loved them. Thought they were proper romantic,” Lottie replies quickly and Louis shrugs.

“Honestly, it sounded a little less romantic and more extremely awkward to me. Granted, my judgment was maybe clouded by how hard Niall laughed at me when I read the line about ‘her swelling virgin bosom.’”

Lottie snorts. “Well, when you put it that way, I can understand why he’d be laughing.”

They chat amicably for a while longer. Louis had forgotten what it felt like to discuss a book with someone who had read it as recently as he had. It was nice.

Louis looks at his clock once more and sees a solid fifteen minutes have passed when he decides he should get up and shower. “Well, Lots, I’m gonna get ready for work. But we’ll chat later.”

“Can I come over tonight?”

Louis confirms that a visit from Lottie would be well received and hangs up with her before heading to the bathroom.

Leaving his room, of course he’s greeted by a laugh from stupidly awake Niall. “How’s that swollen bosom, Lou?”

“Fuck off, Niall,” he says, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door in time to hear Niall call out, “G’morning to you too!”

 

Work is unbelievably overwhelming and Louis _really_ wishes he could’ve stayed in bed this morning. Fridays are the worst day of his week. Everything goes to print on Saturdays, so columnists are busy writing and rewriting sections the editor has scolded them for, or coming back to add things they’d forgotten, and making their contribution to _Modest Home and Gardens_ nothing short of perfect. So when someone asks Louis to make the coffee run, he is grateful for the chance to step out.

On his way, Louis stubs his toe on the testy revolving door, but even that doesn’t deter him from enjoying a breath of fresh air. He’s still surrounded by people in a rush, but he much prefers to be around the sort of rushing that’s actually going somewhere to the chaos that is frantic typing and desperate pleas for a writer’s drug of choice.

Louis rounds the corner to the nearest Starbucks and hopes for a moment that he might see Liam. He could use a friendly face this morning. He doesn’t expect to see Liam sitting in the café in regular clothes. Louis wonders if it’s his day off and he’s come to work anyway. He’s sitting at a table with another bloke with long curls and a ridiculous hat on. Whoever he is, he’s got Liam looking at him with his brows furrowed as he leans against the table.

Liam’s eyes roam and land on Louis. Awkwardly, Louis smiles and waves in Liam’s direction before heading to the counter with his extra long list of sugarcoated caffeine. He can see Liam’s small smile before he turns his attention back to his friend.

Louis hands his list to the barista who isn’t Liam. He feels terrible that this one seems to know his name as well. He isn’t sure he’s ever _seen_ this one before. Is this the infamous last straw? His last test in his initiation as the official coffee bitch—being known by baristas you don’t recognize?

As he waits for his drinks to come out on carrier after carrier, Louis feels a little sick. But weirdly enough, it’s not even about the coffee, or the fact that he’ll have to perform the balancing act of a lifetime to take it all back. It’s more about the sad look in Liam’s eyes. Louis doesn’t even know him, really, but he’s never seen his eyes quite so solemn. He looks sorry. Whatever he’s chatting with his friend about, it doesn’t look like it’s meant for public ears. But that doesn’t mean Louis isn’t wishing that the counter where his drinks are showing up could be closer to that table.

Louis makes eye contact with the barista as he hands out the last drink and thanks him sincerely. Can’t be fun to get an order of sixteen drinks at one time. The barista nods back, and offers his thanks in return. Louis isn’t sure what the barista would be thanking him for, but it’s a nice exchange all the same. He picks up every single tray in one shot and goes for the door.

“Hey, Louis! Wait, let me get the door!”

Louis can only barely see over the top of his drink stack as he slowly backs away from the door to find Liam. Louis grins. “Hey, mate. Didn’t mean to interrupt, I can get the door just fine, thanks.”

Liam laughs softly. “No you can’t, Louis. You give me a heart attack every time you attempt to maneuver this door with that stack. Let me help.”

Liam opens the door. Louis gives him a grateful smile as he walks out of it. “What are you doing here on your day off anyway?”

“Meeting with a friend. And I can get a decently cheap cup of coffee here, so.” Liam smiles sheepishly, and Louis really does like him. He thinks they could be proper mates, and he very briefly toys with the idea of inviting him to hang out with himself, Niall and Zayn. They’d all get on so well.

“Well, I should get back to him, actually. Doesn’t do well on his own for too long. Good luck!”

 "Thanks, mate. See you later!”

 

When Louis makes it back to the office, he discovers very quickly that the awkward encounters are only beginning. Louis knows not to interrupt Simon when he’s on the telephone...but his drink is on top. Words don’t need to be exchanged. He’ll just walk in, set the coffee down, and Simon will barely acknowledge him in the best way.

But when Louis opens the door, Simon is giggling. He is absolutely _giggling_ and sending purring noises to whoever is on the other line. Louis regrets letting the door slam shut more than he regrets opening it in the first place, and when Simon spins around it’s quickly. He looks horrified. Louis sets the coffee down on the desk and makes for the door quickly, though every ounce of his being wants to laugh. He hopes Simon will pretend that never happened.

And literally every office after that has Louis feeling like he should start stomping while he’s at work. People don’t hear him coming so he scares them, papers flying everywhere. A couple of them had wanted iced beverages, and so they tell Louis how frustrating it is that he can’t get their drink right. Louis doesn’t give a shit which drink they wanted, he doesn’t have to get them coffee at all. And on a day like today, he knows it’s the stress talking. Still, a few of them have Louis making a mental note to ask Liam to spit in a few drinks (like he’d actually agree to that).

Finally, Louis has one drink left, and he is determined to make this last delivery smooth. He doesn’t really care about anyone who works here, but he’d like to leave the office without having made every single person his enemy.

Of course he’s also on the phone, of course it also sounds like a serious conversation, and _of course_ Louis still lingers outside of his office like the nosy person he is. This method hasn’t ended well for Louis in any other attempt, but oh well. Louis doesn’t need friends that badly.

“No, Haz, I can’t talk, okay…I know, but I have a deadline, alright, and right now that’s more important than this is.” His frustration becomes more and more evident as he speaks.

Louis doesn’t envy whoever is on the receiving end of that.

“No, okay. The problem is that there isn’t anything to talk about. We’re fine. I’m fine. You need to get over it.”

And Louis officially feels some semblance of guilt. He shouldn’t be listening to this. He coughs, and Cameron looks up at him. His eyes are clouded. He invites Louis in to set the coffee down. Louis does just that while Cameron finishes up his conversation.

“Well I’m sorry if you think I’m being harsh, but I’m really not. I’m going to be the adult here, hang up, and get back to work, because it’s clear that this argument isn’t getting us anywhere. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he’s hung up.

“Thank you for the coffee, Louis. Have a nice day.”

And like that, Louis is rushed out of the cubicle. While other conversations with the columnists left Louis feeling berated and annoyed, this one hurt in a way Louis isn’t sure he understands. No one deserves to be talked to like that.  It was clear that the person on the other end was hurt. Louis hopes that whoever it is will ditch Cameron like last month’s edition.

Louis sighs as he makes his way back to his own little office to  endure the paperwork thrown his way. It’s better he keeps to himself today anyway.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said short but sweet. Sorry if the shortness of this chapter is disappointing. :( 
> 
> Even sorrier to say there might be a longer gap than usual between updates. My dear friend and beta is very close to finishing her own fic, and we will be busy wrapping that up the next couple of weeks. It's a super hero AU and it's such a sweet story. If you need something to keep you busy until my next update, you can read that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4742279/chapters/10839008)! 
> 
> Otherwise, you'll see longer chapters with more book club shenanigans, some actual Harry/Louis interaction, and plenty of our favorite OT3 soon enough. :) 
> 
> Till then, please don't be shy. There's not much to comment on, but I'd love to hear any thoughts or comments you have. :) Leave them here with some kudos or come say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com)!


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BACK!   
> I was going to say I hope you didn't miss me too much, but that is a total lie. I hope you missed me terribly. 
> 
> As usual, I'd like to thank the lovely [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) and the wonderful [Ari](http://teasdays.tumblr.com) for their helpful notes. :) 
> 
> This chapter features the First Real book club meeting so I'm very excited to share it. ENJOY! :D

Louis’ nerves have definitely been getting the best of him. It’s like there’s a pendulum in his head that keeps swinging between anticipation and total dread for the upcoming book club meeting. He occasionally feels his heartbeat quicken, and can’t determine if that’s a good or a bad thing. What he  _ can _ determine  is that it’s exhausting. The other night, while he had been attempting some more Wordsworth, Niall had made some offhanded comment about how nerdy-chic Louis looked. And then Louis hadn’t even tried to make Niall feel stupid for calling him  _ that _ of all things. He’s just not been himself lately.

It’s not  _ really _ that he’s nervous about the book club. Sitting and talking to people has never made Louis feel nervous. He’s good at chatting—and arguing, if it comes to that. It’s more that Lottie is taking this very seriously, and Louis has a hard time taking Wordsworth seriously at all. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control his tongue in this setting, while everyone else praises Wordsworth for his beautiful word choices, and for whatever else poets are supposed to be most admired. Louis thinks it’s a load of pretentious shit.

 

In front of the bathroom mirror, Louis tousles his own hair once more, hoping to look less like a delinquent than the rest of their club. He can hear Lottie and Zayn chit-chatting over in the next room. Zayn asks how school is going, and whether she’s ready for the approach of exams. Come to think of it, Louis’ not even sure why Zayn is here, considering it’s a Thursday and he should be at work.

He finally steps out of the bathroom, and Lottie looks to him with a smile.

“Lou! Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Louis nods, and grabs his book from the counter.

“No one’s forcing you, Lou. You don’t have to go if you don’t really want to.” Louis can  _ feel _ Zayn’s mild amusement from behind him. He turns to reply, but stops short.

The problem is, that’s a load of shit. Lottie  _ is _ forcing him. The way her face falls a little bit whenever Louis thinks about backing out, for even a  _ second _ –that’s what’s forcing him.

“What are you even doing here, Zayn? Shouldn’t you be at your adult job?”

Zayn’s eyes crinkle slightly as he laughs. “I  _ am _ at my adult job. I’ve been trying to work from home all day, but I couldn’t, like, focus, in my big empty flat. So I came here.”

Louis scoffs. “Oh, look at me, I’m Zayn. I have a huge flat but I’d rather be in this shithole that I couldn’t wait to get away from.” This may be the absolute  _ worst _ impression Louis has ever attempted. He’s at his best when he’s drunk, and full of affection. Maybe Zayn’s just too annoying right now.

“You don’t have to lie mate, I know you’re glad to see me. I miss you too.”

“Never lied, Zayn. Just tried to show you how ridiculously ungrateful you are,” Louis argues half-heartedly. He does miss Zayn, the miserable twat. It’s nice when he’s here. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my sister and I have some Romantic poetry to discuss with our new delinquent friends.”

Lottie laughs. “Elaine is hardly a delinquent, Louis.”

“Yeah, well. That’s what she  _ wants _ you to think,” Louis winks, before they’re out the door.

They’re the first to arrive. They’ve even beat Grimshaw, which is more than his ego can take. Now he looks  _ eager _ . On the list of traits Louis hopes people see in him, eager is far below number one.

Truthfully, he’s a tad embarrassed. He’s embarrassed to be here. He doesn’t need this book club, and no one here shouldn’t think for a second that he does.

Lottie thumbs through the pages of poetry beside him and smiles at what she’s underlined. Those seem to be her favorite bits, and Louis swallows back his disdain for a moment. It’s sweet that she’s enjoying this. Even if it’s not helping him to seem any less excited.

Next to arrive is the girl with the pink hair — which she seems to have lightened, now platinum blonde with just traces of pink. She looks around the room, as though there was less seating to choose from than there is. Louis’ feeling particularly friendly, so he pats the seat next to his. This seemed to be the sign she was looking for—she bites down a small grin and takes the seat beside him.

“It’s Louis, right?”

Louis nods. “Yeah – Can’t say I’m as good with names. You are?”

“Perrie.” She extends a hand, Louis takes it.

“Don’t know why I asked if I’m honest. I have a feeling Grimshaw’s just going to make us introduce ourselves again.”

Perrie laughs, setting her book down in front of her. “Especially if someone new walks in or something. How long do you think we’ll be here, even?”

“Who knows, really. However long, my guess is that eighty percent of the time will go to Grimshaw lecturing, which he’ll call ‘helpful discussion suggestions,’ and then twenty percent, answers he’ll coax out of the rest of us.”

Perrie nods with a sheepish smile. “Like first year lit class all over again.”

Lottie’s eyes haven’t really left the pages she’s perusing, so Louis hopes his comments haven’t hurt her. He’s not trying to be cruel and unsupportive. Just so far, he has no reason to believe this will go any other way than what he’s just described to Perrie.

When Nick walks in, he’s followed by Blue Hair and Elaine. They all sit down, Grimshaw at the head of the table again with that smug grin of his. Louis might be imagining it, but his quiff seems higher today.

Louis also wonders if he could get away with stealing Grimshaw’s seat of power next time. He smirks at the idea—the contempt oozing from future Grimshaw’s face when he sees Louis in the spot at the head of the table. It would be beautiful.

“Alright, welcome everyone!”

Grimshaw’s excitement for the book club seems unfettered by last meeting’s hesitance. Louis is only a little disappointed. Only because if Grimshaw gave up on this book club and made Lottie sad, Louis couldn’t be held responsible for the horrid things he’d say to him. He might even let him know how ridiculous his quiff is. “So, what did we all think?”

The room is silent. 

So far, book club meeting number two is playing out just as Louis thought it would. 

The silence stretches on for an unprecedented amount of time before Grimshaw sighs. Just as he’s about to make his first discussion suggestion, the door opens and in walks — well, someone who wasn’t there before.

Someone Louis didn’t imagine he’d see again so soon. He feels something in his gut that he can’t quite name. It’s pleasant, minus the weird twinge of irritation he feels when Grimshaw greets the newcomer (“Harry, was it?”) as though they’re good friends. Why would someone like him associate with someone like Nick Grimshaw?  Perrie’s nice and all, but Louis regrets offering the spot on his other side to her.

Everyone stares shamelessly  at the new participant as he finds a seat beside Elaine. She smiles at him welcomingly, and while he’s quick to return the smile, his is more withdrawn. Something about his posture makes it seem like he’s eager to no longer be the center of attention. He seems so nervous. Louis is almost afraid the poor guy is going to be sick or faint. It’s a far cry from the easy-going lad he’d met only a couple weeks ago.

“Erm, would you mind, introducing yourself to the rest of the group…” Nick lingers at the end of the sentence, stopping himself from saying Harry’s name for him. 

Harry swallows loudly and nods.“Yeah, er, sorry m’late.” His voice is slow, and deep. Louis is fascinated by how someone can seem so nervous, but still sound as though he’s bored. Like he wishes he were taking a nap instead. He must be fiddling with his hands because he looks down in his lap before making a show, if only for himself, of separating his hands and placing them on the table in front of him.

“I’m Harry.”

It’s quiet for a second. Nothing about Harry’s tone had implied that he had anything else to say, but still, it seems everyone’s waiting for him to continue. Grimshaw coughs and nods. “Thank you Harry. Mind telling us why you’ve decided to join us?”

Harry nods quickly, and frowns, like he’s condemning himself for not thinking of this without prompting. “Sorry, yeah. I’m uh, well. I work at a library. So I love books. Not just because I’m with them all the time, but—yeah, I guess you’d think that might make me hate them, but the other day I shelved this book I read when I was twelve and I smiled, so. I still love them.”

_ How enlightening _ . the teasing words are on the tips of Louis’ tongue, but he’s interrupted by Grimshaw.

“Thank you, Harry. I’m very glad you’ve joined us. You did get my e-mail about what we read for today, yes?”

Harry nods, only briefly lifting his eyes from his hands to acknowledge their noble leader. Nick smiles, somewhat fondly, and then looks at the group around the table.

“Well, then. Everyone, introduce yourselves as we go round, so Harry can know names. If you have something to contribute to discussion, just start with your name and then share. I’m sure we could all use a refresher, anyway.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, and Louis sees most everyone opening their books. He hesitates, taking in the sudden motion around table. Harry seems particularly taken with whatever page he’s turned to, and Louis wonders for a moment if he could ask. There’s a cough beside him, and Louis suddenly feels a few pairs of eyes on himself. He shakes his head, quickly, and opens to a random page. Grimshaw looks up from his own book and sighs. “So… thoughts?”

Silence. Not a word is uttered. Everyone seems to be surveying the room at once, looking for one brave soul to speak first. They all seem to be wondering the same things. Is everyone just nervous? Maybe no one wants to seem eager. Louis just isn’t sure how this sort of thing works, really. He knows in lit class they’d go round and bring up their favorite bits and why they liked them and usually that sparked some sort of discussion. Nick has instead managed to leave the floor wide open. Louis could say absolute rubbish and it could apply to this discussion, because it’s going nowhere.

Lottie’s nose still hasn’t left the pages of her book. Blue Hair is penning something down in that shoddy notebook of his, and Elaine is silently playing with her necklace. Louis glances to his right and sees Perrie, looking down, trying not to laugh. Louis can relate. If he weren’t putting all his energy into observing the people around him, the silence would make him giddy with discomfort, too.

There’s a small part of Louis that’s wondering if he’s imagining it, but it almost seems like Harry is avoiding his gaze. Or maybe he’s just avoiding everyone’s. It’s all so incredibly awkward that Louis almost joins Perrie in a fit of giggles.

“Alright then. Let’s start on something more specific, yeah?” Nick coughs, folding his hands in front of him. “What did we think of  _ The Prelude _ ? Did anyone do some research?”

Again, silence.

Nick is just about to cut in with what he probably thinks is fascinating information, when a small voice cuts in.

“I, uh. I liked it.”

“Great! Harry! Thank you! Why did you like it?”

Every exclamation is more eager than the last, and Louis can’t help but chuckle. Harry laughs too -- just a little one, escaping from his lips, before he continues. “I dunno. It just… it was, relaxing I guess? Er, um… calming. His descriptions of nature and stuff.”

“Good! Does anyone relate to Harry’s sentiments?”

Louis is anticipating another silence, but instead Lottie lifts her head from the page she’s been so fixated on and nods. “Yeah, I agree with Harry. I’m Lottie, by the way.”

She sends a small smile to Harry, and he nods back at her.

“Alright!” Nick says, clapping his hands together excitedly. “I too admire Wordsworth and his skillful descriptions of nature! Anyone have any favorites?”

Much to Nick Grimshaw’s disdain, the group falls silent once more.

Nick sighs, obviously dejected. He eyes the group before finally asking Elaine, directly, “What did  _ you _ think of  _ The Prelude _ , Elaine?”

“Truthfully, Mr. Grimshaw, it bored me to tears. I set it down and went back to my mystery novel.”

Louis laughs, then claps a hand over his mouth.  _ The Prelude _ had been dreadfully boring, so he can’t be blamed for laughing when the old woman who thought this was knitting club is the first to admit it.

“I take it you can relate, Louis?” Nick narrows his eyes.

Louis feels all eyes on him as he swallows.

“May I be candid, Sir Grimshaw?” .

“If you must,” Nick consents.

“I think Wordsworth is a little too full of himself for his own good. I don’t think that his writing is bad. Sure, yeah, his descriptions of nature are beautiful.” He sees Harry smile to himself at that. How endearing. “It’s just that… I think I decided I didn’t want Wordsworth to be interesting, because he thinks highly enough of himself as it is. My life is much more interesting, if only because I don’t have time to think about the breeze on my face and how I’d describe it to the world, let alone in poem-speak, whatever you call it.”

When Louis stops, the room’s gone silent again. It’s different this time though. It feels… contemplative.

“I agree with Louis,” say Perrie. “I think Wordsworth is excellent, but if this is what he’s famous for, he should be called a narcissist rather than one of the greats.”

Louis smiles. There are a few nods around the room.

“Harry, Lottie? Do you agree?”

Lottie coughs. “I don’t think that Louis’ wrong about  _ The Prelude,  _ really. I usually like reading about someone’s childhood, but I agree that a lot of it seemed rather dramatic. But I don’t think that we should write him off completely. He had some really good poems that we were meant to read as well.”

Louis’ heart actually swells a little. 

“I especially liked the Lucy poems. I thought  _ She dwelt among the untrodden ways  _ was good.”

Her voice is no less hesitant than when she began, but Louis can sense that everyone in the room is impressed. And why wouldn’t they be? This is his little sister here. Of course she’s impressive.

“I liked that one too,” says Blue Hair. And by golly, this group looks like they’ve found something they actually want to talk about. “It seemed like Lucy was only in Wordsworth’s life for a short amount of time, but she  _ really _ affected him, you know? Real or not, there were, like, five poems about her? Dude was obsessed.”

Lottie nods excitedly. “Exactly. That one line… what was it,” Lottie pauses, placing a finger on the page before she reads, “‘she lived unknown, and few could know when Lucy ceased to be’…. I loved it. Because, like, it didn’t matter that he was the only one who knew her. It’s just like. It was important to him, and that’s what matters, right?” Lottie sighs, clearly swept away by the impressions the poem left on her. “It’s comforting to me, I guess. That it’s not important how many people know us. It only matters that we’re important to the people who are important to us.”

It gets quiet again, and for the first time, it’s comforting.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment, Lottie.” Nick grins, and it takes up his entire face. “Thank you for sharing.”

Louis watches her blush. His heart might swell right out of his chest.

“Anyone else? Which poems did we like?”

“ _ Mutability, _ ” says Perrie.

Everyone waits for her to continue. After a second, she takes the hint.

“I dunno, it kind of freaked me out. I had to look up the word and it wasn’t about being quiet like I thought. So then it was like… I think the poem was about how everything can and will change. Nothing can get past time. And that can seem scary, that even things we thought would always be there, like our beliefs or relationships or whatever… time always changes them.”

Louis peers in Harry’s direction and wonders what in the world he could be thinking about. He looks focused, gaze fixed on his hands resting on the table.

“Does anyone have anything to say about that?”

Louis does, but he’s not sure how to offer it. Change is hard. The fact that time will always pass without Louis’ permission, inevitably changing him along the way, well… that’s just rather overwhelming to think about. It’s one of those ideas nobody wants to talk about. It might be why Harry seems so distraught across the table.

As Perrie and Grimshaw discuss the effects of time, Louis finds himself distracted by Harry. He wonders what it is about this group that’s made Harry so nervous to begin with. They’re an odd bunch, sure, but they’re not scary. He wonders if Harry recognizes him, or if he should try to say hello when they’re done here today. He wonders if Harry slept on his hair like that, or if he takes his time for it, styling it just so. 

Louis reminds himself that Harry is obviously taken—with someone much more accomplished than Louis, no less. Still, no harm in admitting that Harry is one of the more attractive men he’s met in his life. He’s got the sort of face he’s sure Wordsworth would find a way to describe beautifully. It’s definitely more fun to look at than  _ The Prelude _ .

Before Louis can actually tune into whatever it is Elaine has to say about Wordsworth’s description of London, Grimshaw is cutting their time short and handing out the next book. Everyone accepts it like a silent promise to return for their next meeting, including Harry.

Louis watches him as he thumbs through it. When Nick stops by to grab it,  Harry covers it protectively with his hand. He looks up, earnestly, and the difference between the hesitance he displayed the entirety of the meeting and his current demeanor is puzzling.

It looks as though he wants to keep Wordsworth a bit longer, and Nick smiles, clearly touched by Harry’s fascination. But why does Harry think it’s captivating enough to keep? Has he not finished reading? Was that why he seemed so anxious? He said he works in a library though, so couldn’t he have found another copy?

“Louis?”

“Oh, hi. Sorry. Yes?” Louis breaks off his stare, embarrassed at having been caught. Grimshaw is smirking down at him, amused.

“Could I have your copy back?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I might, uh… keep it. For another week or so?”

Nick’s smirk grows. “Oh really? I thought you found Wordsworth dreadfully boring...”

“Well I did, but I’d like to revisit some of the things I assumed, you see. I’m not above correcting myself. Especially when my little sister asks me to. I’m a very humble spirit,” Louis tells Nick, his tone just barely disguising the sarcasm that comes so naturally to him. “Just, until next time is all. I’ll get it back to you, I swear.”

Nick nods, and Louis gets the feeling he’s just convinced Grimshaw that he’s broken through Louis’ resistant spirit. Louis isn’t even sure why he felt the impulse to keep the book was so important. Still, he’s not about to correct Grimshaw if it gives him an out.

He stands to leave, but finds Lottie is still in conversation with blue hair, aka Michael. He’s just about to go over and interfere when he feels a small tap on his shoulder. He hears a small “Excuse me.”

Louis turns to find Harry. And he’s much taller than Louis remembered. He hadn’t seemed so tall when he walked in. He knows he should reply, but there’s something in Harry’s eyes that have him feeling small and trapped. Like he couldn’t break Harry’s gaze even if he wanted to.

“Sorry to bother you, but… Louis, right?”

And uh, yes. Yes he’s Louis. What does Harry want? Did he see Louis staring? Did he happen to watch Louis also keep his copy of Wordsworth? Does he want to discuss Wordsworth with him? How are his eyes so  _ wide _ ?

“You okay?” Harry asks, nervously. And, right. Louis’ forgotten to reply.

“Sorry. Yes,” he shakes his head and offers a hand, “I’m Louis, yes.”

“Great. Do you, erm, remember me? We met at  _ Modest _ .”

“Yeah, ‘course I do.” Louis pushes his fringe to the side, a nervous habit.

“So, do you… see Cameron? A lot?” Harry asks, his eyebrows sit high on his face.

“Well, sort of, yes. I just drop his coffee to him sometimes. I’m the intern, so—you know.” Louis winks.

_ why _ is Louis winking? He’s not like this. He’s always calm and collected, but everything about this conversation has Louis feeling uneasy. Half his brain is admitting that he wants Harry to like him, but the other half knows that this is stupid. He can’t make friends at book clubs. Harry is just an attractive _ potential friend _ that Louis shouldn’t make. Louis should walk away.

“Well, could you, erm, just… keep this to yourself?” he pauses, slightly distressed. “ I know it sounds… odd. But I really don’t want him to know that I’m here, doing this.” Harry gets more flustered with every word. “God, this is embarrassing. Just… you seemed to be friends? So. Please. Don’t bring this up with him.”

And isn’t that interesting. Louis is about to ask why when Harry offers, “I know it sounds weird, but Cam is… well, we’re together, and he likes to do this sort of thing with me but—“

“You don’t want him to?”

Harry sighs and nods. “Yeah, it’s uh, complicated is all and I just—“

“It’s your business, mate. No worries. I won’t bring it up.”

“Thanks, mate, I really appreciate it. I just—yeah. Yeah, thank you.” Harry looks so relieved. Louis sort of wants to hug him, but he’s not sure if that would make Harry feel any better.

“Don’t mention it. See you around?” Louis tries not to sound hopeful. He’s got no reason to be.

Harry nods. “Yeah, see you. And thanks, again.”

Louis watches him leave. Just then, Lottie appears on his other side. She grips his wrist and asks if he’s ready to go. Louis nods, and together they walk back to Louis’ flat—Lottie chattering away, Louis unable to shake the image of those bright green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is where it gets interesting. 
> 
> I can promise you there won't be another 3 month gap between updates, but I can't really promise when the next one will be so just keep your eyes open. :) 
> 
> Leave comments and kudos to feed my needy soul, or just come talk to me on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com). :) I like new friends!


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT'S UP 
> 
> I'm back sooner than even I expected. :D 
> 
> Thank you SO much as always to [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) for your time and for caring so deeply about the outcome of this fic with me. <3  
> Also big thank you to [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) for being a new pair of eyes and indulging me. :) 
> 
> This chapter features Lirry and a couple of my favorite moments so I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Warning: This chapter does involve some emotional abuse. If that's triggering to you, feel free to skip over the scene that is in italics. If you feel like you may be missing something, feel free to ask me about it and I will give you a summary that doesn't include emotional trauma. <3

Harry often forgets he only has one friend. Liam wears so many hats that it sometimes feels like Harry’s catching up with multiple people at once. Today, Liam comes attached to a golden lab on the end of a leash. He keeps yelling in the middle of his sentences because the dog is much stronger than he looks. Harry laughs every time. The dog isn’t Liam’s, as much as he wishes he were. He’s been walking dogs in his spare time for the better part of three years and he still struggles to return the dogs to the shelter.

“ _Whoa_ , boy!” Liam shouts for the millionth time.

“Maybe if you talk to it like a dog and not like a horse, you’ll get somewhere, Li,” Harry smirks.

“The _woah_ was for my own benefit. Young Benedict here has to learn that if he’s going to walk with me, he has to walk _with_ me,” Liam says, more for Benedict’s floppy ears than for Harry’s.

Harry is endeared. He chuckles again rather than saying as much, and Liam looks up at him with his own puppy eyes, crinkly at the ends, smiling at Harry like he’s Christmas come early.

“I’ve missed you, mate.”

“I’ve missed you too. It hasn’t been _that_ long, though,” Harry says.

Harry should’ve seen the laugh coming, but he didn’t suppose it would be so loud.

“Hah! Harry, it’s been _ages_ ,” Liam counters. “You used to take these walks with me at least once a week. You remembered the dogs’ names.”

“I’ve just been busy, Liam. But I see you! We had coffee just last week!” Harry defends.

Liam pauses. He takes a deep breath before treading carefully. “And I’m glad we did, but I thought it would be _months_ before I saw you again.”

Harry feels himself retreating—he’s not keen on Liam’s tone. But he knows that Liam’s right. He had hoped Liam wouldn’t feel avoided. It isn’t like Harry ever _wanted_ to avoid him in the first place.

“Did I do something, or?” Liam asks. He keeps his head down but Harry can feel the way his friend is wilting, slightly.

“No, Li. You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry you thought so.” Harry hopes that’ll fix it. He hopes Liam will just shrug and pretend the unease between them isn’t obvious.

“It’s alright, Haz. I guess I just knew if I didn’t do anything, that you may be…” He hesitates. “I’m just worried about you.”

Harry feels his stomach tie itself into a knot, as it likes to when he betrays his routine. It’s been a constant for the last few weeks, ever since that impromptu visit to see Liam.

Until this point, today had been a refreshing change of pace. Harry had seen Cam at work, snuck a kiss from his cubicle, and left feeling warm, and like he’d left some warmth behind him. It’s been awhile since he’s felt that way. Knowing that Cam’s happy makes him feel like some time with Liam really can’t be so bad. If Cam finds out, maybe Harry can just kiss him again to make it better.

Now that he really thinks about it, he’s not sure when exactly he started feeling guilty for seeing his best friend. And that’s just… well, that’s why Harry really doesn’t like to think at all.

“Oh now, don’t float away, Haz. Where’d you go?” Liam waves a hand in front of Harry’s face. Harry shakes his head, pushing his hair back before looking up at Liam with an apologetic smile. He doesn’t think it quite reaches his eyes, but it’ll do.

Liam sighs and stops to sit on a stone stack wall that follows their path. He pats the spot next to him, and Harry sits.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. “I just never saw this happening with us. I never saw a time in my life when you weren’t _really_ a phone call away. I know next to nothing about your life right now, and you know even less about mine. I just miss you, I guess. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Miss you too,” Harry mumbles. Benedict sits patiently in front of him, tongue out and tail wagging. Harry wishes he could be as oblivious as a dog. Life would be so much easier if your existence was about people taking care of you in exchange for a good cuddle. Harry would be very good at that, he thinks.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Liam starts, cautiously. “If you’ve been avoiding me because you yourself _actually_ want to see less of me, all you have to do is say so.” Liam swallows. “I’m just worried that it hasn’t been up to you.”

The knot in Harry’s stomach tightens. He shakes his head. “No, it’s not that I want to see less of you… I just… I can’t really see you all the time.”

“Are you not _allowed_ or what?”

“It’s not like that.”

“See Haz, this is what’s killing me. I know you won’t say it because you see how bad it looks—”

“I told you, Liam—”

“Why won’t Cam let you see me?” Liam frowns.

Harry pauses. Frustrated, he tries again. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Harry. Please. Enlighten me.”

Harry doesn’t know how to talk to people when they get angry. He never wanted to hurt Liam, and he never wants to hurt Cam, and that is both the reason he can’t be here and the reason that he is. He feels selfish--how could he have let himself think he could really have them both? He should have found a better way to go about it, but his options have always seemed scarce.

Moments pass into minutes of silence. Harry is jolted from his thoughts when Liam sighs. He puts a hand on top of Harry’s.

“Can I be really honest?”

Harry nods.

“Last week, while we had coffee, you were too worried that Cameron was mad at you for missing his break to enjoy it. I sat at the table with you while you called him, and Haz… I wanted to put a mirror in front of your face so you could see what he was doing. I know you’re afraid of losing him, and I know he’s afraid of losing you, too, but you can’t just... act like all of this is fine. He can’t keep you from your friends.”

Harry keeps his eyes on the ground. There’s nothing to say. Liam wouldn’t understand that it’s a _relief_ that Cameron’s afraid of losing him. It makes Harry feel a little less alone.

They stay like that, in spells of silence. Harry fiddles with the rings on his fingers, and Liam takes deep breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Liam huffs, abruptly. “Look, can we please... just talk? I’ll listen. I won’t judge, I won’t assume. I just… I really do want to hear about your life, Haz. What you’re getting up to, what book you have with you...and what’s going on up there.” He grins as he pokes Harry’s forehead. “Let’s take Benedict back and grab a cuppa or something, yeah?”

“Don’t know how much time I have,” Harry admits.

Liam frowns, but says, “Well, let’s take advantage of whatever time we do have?”

He stands. Benedict charges ahead. Liam is caught off guard, again forgetting the strength of his furry companion.

“Whoa!”

Harry laughs in spite of himself.

They laugh at their own clumsiness the whole way back to the shelter, recalling their best and brightest accidents. When they drop Benedict off, they’re stuck on the time Harry fell through a door that he’d mistaken for a wall, and Harry feels lighter than he has in weeks. A tiny corner of Harry’s mind takes note of this. The forefront is still too far in denial to fully accept how Liam affects his mood.

At the café on the nearest corner, Liam hands Harry the tea he’s just purchased and puts a hand in his pocket. “So, wanna sit or walk?”

Harry prefers walking, so Liam nods and puts an arm around his shoulders and they set off. Their physical closeness isn’t weird, but still the knot in his gut grows. It’s just that without the presence of a dog, Liam’s full attention is on Harry. He feels like he’s being watched and surveyed and his anxiety increases tenfold when he considers how furious Cam would be if he saw.

So he shrugs out of Liam’s embrace. Liam furrows his brows, but he doesn’t question it.

“So what’s new, mate? Cam’s good?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, Cam’s really good. Work’s good and he’s busy, but he’s enjoying it, so that’s good.”

“You still see him often, though? Even if he’s busy?”

“Every night, yeah. He’s come home late more this week, but I stop by his office in the afternoons when I get off work and I see him when he gets home. Cook dinner, put on a film, fall asleep. Whatever. It’s nice.”

Liam nods. “You’re proper settled then, the two of you.”

He simpers. “I mean, yeah, I s’pose.”

“And wedding plans are going well?”

Harry bites his bottom lip. “I mean… sort of? Like, we just talked about it, and Cam kind of wants to just go to the courthouse.”

Liam’s eyes get big at that. “But what about the wedding? You’ve always wanted the wedding and all that.”

Harry nods. “I do. But he’s right, about it being stressful and stuff… I’ve been doing most of it by myself because he’s so busy at work and like, I haven’t gotten very far, I guess? It might just be easier, and it’d make Cam happy if we were just married now. We already act like we are, so I guess it just…makes sense.”

“But is it what you _want_?”

“ _There’s nothing wrong with wanting a wedding_!” _The words escape before Harry can stop them._

 _“I don’t want this to be_ your _party.” Cameron spits. “You know my family won’t be there. I want it to be about us, and making you mine, and all that. We can celebrate when it’s done, but it’d be awkward for our wedding party to be made up of all your friends.”_

 _“They could be_ our _friends though, Cam. And it’d be great. Like a party and a ceremony about inviting you into my family.” He held Cameron’s hands in his own, and he could feel himself tearing up. He wanted that so much. It felt like the perfect compromise—even if it was a little selfish._

_“Haz, I’m not a charity case. You’re my family. The only family I need.”_

_“Well yeah, but we really should include my mum and my sister, Cam. They’re important to me, too.” Cameron places a hand on his cheek to wipe away a tear. Harry feels stupid._

_“I’m sorry, love, but where are you going to get the money anyway? You don’t make enough to plan the wedding you’d like.”_

_“We’ve been saving, though.”_

_“No,_ you _have,” Cameron corrects. “This was never what I wanted. It’s for you and you know it.”_

_Harry struggles to fight back._

_“I thought I was good enough for you, but apparently you’d rather have a wedding than just marry me.”_

_And there’s something so cruel about it. The way Cameron strokes his face and kisses his tears. It should feel nice, but Harry thinks he might be ill._

_“Course I want to marry you, Cam. I want that.”_

_“Then we don’t need anything else, yeah? Just us. Your mum can come to sign the marriage license, how’s that?”_

_“Can Gemma come? And Liam?”_

_Right away, he knows it was a horrible idea. There’s no reason he should’ve asked for it._

_“Harry, what part of this is so hard for you to understand? We don’t need anyone else. It’s just you and me, love.”_

_Harry nods, a few more tears falling. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”_

_“Well I love you, stupid. It’s alright. We’ll do it sometime in the next few months, yeah? Phone your mum this week and tell her.”_

_Harry nods, because he always nods._

“Can I at least come?” Liam asks.

“What?”

“I mean, if you’re going to a courthouse you’re still going to need a witness, aren’t you? Could I come?”

Harry brings his gaze back to the pavement in front of him and he sighs. “I don’t know, Li. I think it’s just going to be my mum and sister.”

“But you’re my best friend. I want to see you get married,” Liam says, like he thinks it’s that simple. Harry knows otherwise.

“I asked if you could be there, but Cam didn’t think it was a good idea,” Harry supplies. He knows that Liam’s only going to get more angry and defensive on Harry’s behalf, but he’d promised to listen.

Harry watches Liam’s fists clench at his sides. “I’m sorry, Li. Can we talk about something else?”

Liam closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. They come to a stop. Liam’s foot taps the pavement, and Harry counts the taps to ten before Liam opens his eyes and nods. “So how’s work?”

“Work’s nice. This woman named Pam just started there and she’s lovely.  She’s told me so many knock knock jokes, and you know how wasted they are on Cam, so I’ll have to tell you some.” Harry sees Liam wince when he says Cam’s name, like he can’t help it.

“I bet she’s nice. I should pop in and see you at work.”

“You should! I’ll help you pick out a book.” Harry grows excited at the thought. He’s always tried to get Liam to read more. Liam’s never been content to just sit and enjoy a story. Even a movie is pushing it for him sometimes.  

Liam makes a face, and Harry laughs.

“You and your books...” Liam rolls his eyes.

“Books are good for you!” Harry argues. “They’re a perfectly reasonable thing to love.”

“Exercise would do you better, mate,” Liam says, patting Harry’s stomach. He’s not as toned as he used to be, but he’s in no way chubby.

Harry sticks his stomach out and puffs out his cheeks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Lee-yum.”

Liam laughs and Harry lets the sound wrap him up. It’s warm and fond, and that feeling of being much lighter returns. He can feel it in his shoulders and his neck as his arms swing at his sides a little more freely. It’s then that Harry makes a mental note to make seeing Liam a much higher priority. What Cameron doesn’t know can’t really hurt him. At least he hopes.

Louis doesn’t know what he’s doing. He isn’t sure why he’s here, or why he thought for even a second that he could be this person. But here he is sitting under a tree with his copy of _Innocence and Experience_ by William Blake. He feels like a complete idiot. He is not someone with a trendy haircut reading under a tree to be poetic. But that’s exactly what he looks like. He is an idiot.

He tries to focus on the poem in front of him, really he does. Blake was one of his favorites back in the day. He’s just too busy looking around the park. He’s afraid he’ll see someone he knows. This park is close to the uni campus and—fuck, what if Lottie sees him? Does she come here with Peter at all?

Zayn’s flat isn’t far from here either. In fact, this might be where Zayn’s been running more often. What if he were to come around the corner and see Louis like this? He might as well don a flower crown and start doing yoga.

He’s just about to stand up and go home when he looks up and makes eye contact with a familiar face. It’s _Liam_ —the barista that knows his woes as the coffee bitch. He thinks he can go unrecognized if he breaks eye contact fast enough, but of course, as soon as he’s thought it, Liam’s waving. Louis grins back awkwardly, his eyebrows high on his face. He curses to himself.

And then matters become about a million times worst. Approaching at Liam’s side is Harry—as in, _the_ Harry, from book club.

Louis briefly considers running away. Of course, he knows he’d be running from two people he will likely see again and explaining himself out of that would be difficult, even for him.

Before he can think of any other options, Liam is standing right above him. Harry is trailing close behind, avoiding Louis’ eye contact. So he’s been recognized, then.

“Louis, mate! How are you?”

Liam offers his hand, and Louis accepts it. It turns into this awkward bro-hug thing that Louis wasn’t expecting, but tries to go along with anyway. He trips a little and hooks his chin on Liam’s shoulder, and it makes him laugh. Liam laughs too, though Louis can tell he isn’t sure why they’re both laughing. He laughs harder.

“Sorry,” he says as he’s catching his breath. “Sorry, I just really wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.”

“Much less me, probably. Sorry. I just haven’t seen you at the shop in a while.” Liam pauses. It suddenly feels like he’s holding something back. Louis is about to fill the silence when Liam says, with a little too much gusto, “Plus, I think you’re cool.”

Louis is charmed. Liam thinks he’s cool even though he was just sitting under a tree with a book of poetry like the flower child he most certainly isn’t.

“It’s fine, and yeah. I haven’t been to Starbucks in a bit, actually. They got the coffee maker fixed in the office so no one actually needs me to go. I’d stop in for me, but I’m not really into all that fluffy coffee shit. No offense.”

Liam laughs. “Absolutely none taken.”

It’s in the awkward silence that follows that Liam pulls Harry forward. “Louis, this is my best mate, Harry. Harry, this is—“

“We’ve met, actually,” Louis interrupts. He sees Harry’s eyes leave the grass for a second. He darts them upward to Louis’ face and purses his lips.

His inscrutability drives Louis a little mad. Does Harry hate him for some unknown reason? He mentioned he’s dating that guy in Louis’ office—so is it Cameron that hates him? Cameron seems alright on most days. Sometimes he was less than grateful for his fucking soy mocha, but Louis never fucked with his drink, so. He thought he was in the clear.

“You’ve met?” Liam looks at Harry questioningly. Liam looks oddly bewildered. It’s a small world, Louis guesses.

“Yeah,” Louis nods.

He’s never been one to struggle with small talk, but for whatever reason, he’s a little… stunted. He knows these gents from very different settings, but he also doesn’t really _know_ either of them. Usually Louis would just hope to have a laugh for a second with people he doesn’t know well so he can easily slip away with a ‘see you around’—especially if they’ve caught him in a particularly awkward circumstance. Instead, Louis finds himself struggling to find ways to keep them around.

He’s about to give up when he notices the small book in Harry’s hands.

“You still stuck on Wordsworth, then?” Louis smirks, looking up at Harry.

Harry doesn’t answer right away. He seems embarrassed when he eventually says, “I like it. It’s relaxing to me.”

Louis almost says _I wondered_ , but he catches himself. That might lead to admitting that he noticed when Harry kept the book, which… is it weird that he noticed? It might not be that weird.

Louis shrugs in lieu of a response, and Harry smiles a little, looking down before asking, “Did you like some of it? Like actually.”

“Was alright, I suppose,” Louis shrugs again. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you kept the book. You had it when I…I just saw you had kept it.”

Louis’ smirk returns in full. Harry’s cheeks are growing pink, so Louis, against his own nature, doesn’t comment on his observation.

“Yeah, I did. Wanted to see if I could look again and see any of that stuff my sister was talking about,” Louis says.

“Your sister’s the blonde, right?”

“You mean the intelligent one? Yes.” Louis grins, and he sees a smile playing on Harry’s lips as well. And what a lovely smile it is. Especially when it reaches the eyes. Beautiful compared to the gloomy quality that seems to reside there the rest of the time.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Louis mentally sputters, while Harry literally does.

“Oh, yeah, Liam, uh. Well, see I joined this book club and uh, Louis’ in it. That’s why we’ve met before.”

“Oh…” Liam says, his face unreadable. He’s biting back a smile, but his whole body seems tense. Louis doesn’t really know how to read Liam at all anyway, so he’s sure it’s fine.

“Well Louis, we were just on our way back to my flat. Would you maybe like to join us?” Liam offers, and he sees the smile on Harry’s face start to dissipate. Louis really doesn’t want to intrude, despite what’s in his nature. But Liam looks hopeful and Louis… really wants to know Harry’s deal. And if that’s at all imposing, then maybe Louis should care. But instead, he nods and says, “Sure! Thanks!”

Louis is half afraid that the evening will continue to be as awkward as it started, but it seems that both Harry and Liam are spectacular lads. As they walk, basic backstories lead the conversation. Louis learns that Liam walks dogs in his spare time, and Harry jokes about how soft and squishy Liam is because of it.

“Tell that to my six pack,” Liam added.

“What, you sharing beer at your place then?” Harry grins.

“I didn’t realize you enjoyed that sort of thing, Harry. What would all your old lady friends at the library think?” Louis teases. “They probably approve much more of the book club. Unless Wordsworth’s a dirtier old dog than we yet know.”

Harry laughs outright, and Louis feels a burst of joy. He attributes it to the apparent rarity of that particular laugh. He can tell by the way Liam’s own face has lit up with warm, crinkly eyes.

“Wordsworth does _not_ write erotica, trust me,” Harry says, still grinning wide.

“Nah, but he probably got off on the sound of his own voice,” Louis smirks.

Harry laughs again, just as loud as before, and Louis feels himself flush. As it turns out, making Harry laugh like that is a goal Louis didn’t know he had. He relishes the accomplishment, and suddenly it’s as though Harry and Liam have been in his life all along.

Liam and Harry may feel the same, seeing as Louis’ found his way to the spot between them as they walk. The company is pleasant and the laughter is easy. Louis has sort of forgotten how refreshing this sort of thing is. Walking, talking, laughing with friends. He loves Zayn and Niall, and he wouldn’t trade their nights out on the balcony, with Niall’s guitar, and the nostalgia and warmth of the living room in their flat. It’s all comforting, especially in Louis’ recurring state of mind. He’s resentful of most everything about how his life has turned out, but he’s made and kept the best friends. And now it seems that Louis could get used to making Harry laugh like that, and Liam patting his shoulder as they walk.

Suddenly they come upon a small building where Liam apparently lives. “Well lads, before we go in, do we want to grab something to eat? It’s about that time.” Liam pats his tummy jokingly.

When Louis looks to see Harry’s reaction, whatever brightness there was in Harry’s face has disappeared. He looks like he might be sick. “What time is it, Liam?”

“It’s almost six, why?”

“Fuck,” Harry swears under his breath. “Nah, Li, I gotta get going. I’ll catch you later though? Thanks for everything. Bye!”

Harry abruptly turns and heads off in the other direction before Louis even gets to say goodbye. He frowns as he watches Harry practically run away from them. It’s unsettling, how quickly Harry had gone from cheerful to anxious and—well, _dark_ in a way. His laugh and his eyes and his smile had been so bright only seconds ago. When they dimmed, they dimmed with a vengeance.

Louis is vaguely aware of Liam speaking to him, and blinks a few times before he can focus enough on listening.

“You okay, Lou?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.” Louis tries his best to smile sincerely at Liam. “What’s his deal, though?”

Liam’s face contorts into this less-than-pleasant expression. Whatever it’s supposed to be, Louis can tell it isn’t good.

“Harry’s just…distracted right now. He’s dealing with some shit, is all.”

“What kind of shit?” Louis asks. He knows he shouldn’t—it’s none of his business, after all—but he can’t help himself. Harry is mysterious. He came to book club of his own free will, but he looked uncomfortable the entire time. He hangs out with lovely people like Liam, but a passing mention of the time has him in this troubled frenzy. And now he learns he’s dealing with ‘shit’ and Louis… really doesn’t know why he cares. But he does. He wants to know why it’s a special occasion when that beautiful boy laughs. It shouldn’t be like that.

“Not really mine to share, mate,” Liam shrugs, grimacing.

“Right, right. Of course,” Louis apologizes. “He’s just an odd one.”

“That he is, Louis,” Liam shrugs. “Well hey, I hate to be flighty, but I’ve just received a text message from a uh… handsome fella who’s interested in buying my dinner.”

Louis smirks. “Well then, don’t let little old me stand in the way. Go get ‘im, Tiger.” He winks, and Liam’s smile grows with a rosy blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t be a stranger, though. I’m sure if Harry ever does figure his shit out, he’d love to hang out with both of us.” Liam smiles. “In the meantime, I’d love to grab a pint with you sometime.”

The two exchange numbers and Louis heads back to his own flat, feeling both uplifted and deeply confused. He just can’t stop wondering what shit Harry could possibly be dealing with. Was it an incident in his family? Or is he an addict? He doesn’t seem like one, but it could still be early or something.

Louis hears his stomach growl and he pulls out his phone. At this rate, some food and a pint with Niall sounds fantastic. Maybe Zayn could come too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :D 
> 
> As always comments and kudos are very appreciated.  
> And you're all more than welcome to come say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) as well!


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIIII
> 
> Life has really gotten away from me the last couple months, hence no update in a while. I like to think I've kept at least a few of you waiting, but if I actually have, I'm sorry. :P 
> 
> Thanks as always to [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) and [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) for all of your love and help. :)

Book club feels different today. It’s buzzing with a new kind of energy, and even a touch of anticipation. Lottie and Louis arrive third and fourth to Michael and Harry. Michael is jotting things down in his notebook on one end of the table and Harry is sitting in the corner, at the other end of the table, flipping through a book Louis doesn’t recognize. Lottie reaches for Louis’ wrist and pulls him towards where Michael is sitting and is surprised when her pull doesn’t move him.

“Sit where you’d like, love. Doesn’t have to be by me.” 

Lottie hesitates, but takes a seat next to Michael anyway. Louis stands by the door a moment.

“You can sit over here, Louis,” Harry offers in that soft, low voice of his. Louis ignores the warmth that blooms in his chest, but he can’t quite contain the grin that spreads across his face. He slowly shakes his head. Harry frowns a little and watches as Louis takes a seat at the head of the table in Grimshaw’s usual seat.

He lifts his legs, resting them on the table, and pulls out his book, thumbing through it casually. He can hear idle chit chat from his sister and Michael. She’s asked him about what he’s writing or something. Then he hears a quiet, breathy laugh from across the table. He looks up and sees Harry shaking his head, looking down before Louis can properly meet his gaze. When Harry looks up again, Louis smirks and raises his eyebrows. Harry’s caught on, then.

He hears snickers from everyone else as they enter, including Elaine, which leaves Louis feeling satisfied. Of course, not satisfied enough that he’s willing to just stop there. They’re all early—another difference between this meeting and the last—so he’s got a moment to take this just one step further.

He takes his feet off the table and closes his book loudly. They all look up at him, confused, until Louis pushes his fringe back on his head in imitation of a quiff. They all smile. Perrie giggles a little. Louis takes a deep breath.

“Well, everyone. Welcome to book club. I was thinking we might come up with a name for our club or something. We’re all a unit coming together to discuss the greats and all and I think we deserve a proper name. So, think on that and report at the end of the meeting. Now…what did we all think of Blake then?”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but Louis interrupts him.

“Thank you, Harry, I’m sure that’s lovely. Now what  _ I _ think personally is that you should love William Blake. He’s all about opposites, as you could probably tell, and he’s  _ very _ important, as he helps us understand different perspectives. I’d like for us to discuss three very specific items, but for now I will merely  _ suggest _ them. He promotes diversity —”

And in the tell tale sign of any class clown getting caught in the act, Louis jolts at the sound of a small cough behind him. Louis shakes out his faux quiff and takes his feet off the table to face Grimshaw.

“Nick! Grimshaw! Grimmy, if you will!” Louis coughs. “Glad you could join us. Sorry mate, but we all seemed to have beat you, and we all loved Blake so much that I thought we should get the discussion started straight away!” 

Grimshaw lifts an eyebrow at him and jerks his head in the direction of another seat. Louis chuckles and stands up. With both hands up in surrender, he moves to the vacant seat beside Harry.

He hears Harry snort to his left. Louis looks over at him wondering what exactly has struck him so funny. Harry looks up, still smirking, and mutters with another giggle, “Grimmy.”

Louis feels his own smile grow slowly as Harry still can’t seem to get a grip. Louis giggles alongside him and thinks for a brief moment on how wonderful it is to make Harry laugh again. It may be even more satisfying than making his younger twin sisters giggle at the exact same time.

“Well  _ children,”  _ Nick says, with scorn, “I hope you’ve all had a lovely couple weeks. Personally, I’m glad to see you’ve all returned.”

Harry’s giggles finally subside. He’s pulled his book out in front of him. Louis looks at the multicolored tabs between the pages and wonders which ones he’s marked. Everyone else nods in agreement at Nick’s sentiments.

“So, before we get started…I just wanted to suggest that maybe we find a good group name of sorts! So we can call this something other than book club, yeah? Anyone have any ideas!”

If Louis thought that Harry’s giggle was lovely, then the squawk, followed by a deep, belly laugh makes Louis feel like his birthday has arrived in a sound. Everyone laughs. Poor, unfortunate Grimshaw mutters about how they don’t  _ have _ to. 

The laughter dies down a minute later before Harry sighs, “You know, Nick, I don’t think a group name is a bad idea at all.”

“ _ Thank _ you, Harry!” Nick exclaims, exasperated. “Got any ideas, then?”

Harry looks to his right and shrugs at Louis. “What do you think, Lou?”

Nick rolls his eyes as Louis leans back in his seat, a hand lightly wrapped around his chin, pretending to think. “That’s a tough one, Harry. Let me think on it a moment.”

Louis smirks. He takes the looks around the table as an invitation to exaggerate. He hums loudly and stares pronouncedly at the ceiling. When he goes to scratch the top of his head, Grimshaw huffs, clearly frustrated.

“Alright, does  _ anyone _ have any ideas?”

His gag having been shut down, Louis surveys the room and wants to laugh at the silence. He sees Michael noting something down and Lottie reading over his shoulder. Elaine looks deep in thought, maybe genuinely considering some ideas. From beside him, Louis sees Harry flipping his book open again. Louis looks over and gifts him with a friendly poke to the arm.

Harry looks up, sees the mischievous grin on Louis’ face and smiles back. Louis is charmed by the sparkle in Harry’s eye when Elaine cuts in and disrupts the moment.

“What about The Radical Readers?”

“ _ No _ .” Louis lifts his head so fast, he thinks Harry jumps from beside him. “Absolutely not. Radical Readers sounds like the name of a book club that’s reading the Bible.”

“Oh hush, Louis. I think it’s cute!” Elaine replies.

“We don’t want to be  _ cute _ , Elaine. If this is what we’re going to call it, we’ll use it in  _ actual  _ conversation, when we like…tell people to join, or summat. Calling ourselves something akin to a religious group is  _ not _ the direction we should go.” Louis’ got his arms crossed and he shrugs apologetically when Elaine doesn’t defend her idea again.

“What about, like… The Bookworms,” Harry says. Louis is actually surprised he isn’t the only one who heard it.

Lottie responds first, in kind. “That’s cute, Harry.”

Harry smiles and shrugs. “There’s a woman called Marge at my work who calls me that all the time. A bookworm.”

Louis feels something inside him squirm. That’s the most adorable thing Louis has ever heard.

Michael pipes up before Louis can say so.

“Honestly, I kind of… like just calling it book club. It speaks for itself, it isn’t trying to be something it’s not. We’re just a book club, ya know? Not competing for anything or whatever.”

Lottie nods beside him and Louis can see everyone else is sort of agreeing.

“Well, then… I guess that’s that. Let’s chat about Blake then, bookies.” Nick rubs his palms together.

Louis laughs, surprised. “Did you just give us a name against our own will? One that makes us sound dodgy, no less?”

“It’s what I’ve been calling you all in my head the last few meetings, so.” Nick shrugs, and the group has a collective giggle about it. Maybe Grimshaw has also wondered about the moral ambiguity and possible delinquency of his group of readers.

When the floor is open for discussion, it begins much like the last one did — in silence. The silence is much less awkward this time around, though. Instead, Louis notes that it’s very thoughtful. Even Louis finds himself wondering where to begin rather than wondering about how close they are to the end. It’s refreshing, to be in a room filled with people who seem to care about where this conversation goes.

Louis sees Lottie tentatively raise a hand, and coughs a little. Louis grins with tight lips at his sister and watches everyone else look her way.

“Well, I really like how Blake wrote about all the same things twice. He just changed the perspective.”

Michael nods beside her. “Yeah, I had read that Blake was known for writing about opposites, and I didn’t really think of experience as the opposite of innocence until I learned that’s what he meant to do.”

“Me too!” Lottie says. “I thought if the first section was called innocence, the second was going to be dark and corrupt. When it was experience, I was like... huh, well, I guess that may be right?”

Grimshaw looks like he could squeal with excitement. “Brilliant, Lottie. Could you expand on that? What’s an example?”

Lottie blushes when she realizes everyone is waiting for her to speak and she shrugs a little before continuing. “I mean, like. All the things he wrote about were exactly the same, but experience can make you look at it completely differently. Sometimes your experience makes you… jaded and sad. Like in ‘Infant Joy’ and ‘Infant Sorrow’.”

Perrie agrees with an excited sound, “I loved those! ‘Cause, like of course having a kid is a happy thing… but if you’ve lived a hard life it can be like… that poor kid has no idea what it’s in for, does it?”

Everyone nods. Elaine chimes in.

“It’s true, too. Experience can mean you’re hesitant to bring life into the world. I worried when my first grandchild was born. As happy as you are to have them, you can’t help but think about all that’s to come for them.” Elaine shakes her head sadly. “But, actually, I thought those poems were from the perspective of a child, right? That was a little confusing for me. A baby doesn’t have any experience.”

“I think that ‘Infant Sorrow’ is more visual than ‘Infant Joy’ is—you know what I mean?” Louis says. “‘Infant Joy’ is much more about the ideas surrounding birth, all ‘happy days!’ and such, but when you think about labor, it’s quite gruesome. The kid’s struggling to adjust to surroundings and bright lights and there are tears and screaming and that’s nothing compared to the awful pain it will see in its future. It’s just…it’s realism, innit? Experience is realism.”

Everyone is nodding again. Lottie shrugs. “So you think the  _ Songs of Innocence _ are about ideals, and  _ Songs of Experience _ are about realism?”

Louis considers it a moment, and then nods.

“Great start!” Nick exclaims. He’s bopping his head excitedly, like that dad trying to fit in with the cool kids at a party. “So what were some other favorites? Any examples of what Louis’ saying?”

“I quite liked ‘The Divine Image,’” Harry says.

“Yes!” Louis agrees quickly. “Definitely!”

Harry is a little jolted by Louis’ enthusiasm, it seems. But Louis still notices the small trace of a smile when he looks over at him.

“That’s another really good example of the realism and all that. And I really like how Blake just lets us have it. ‘Cruelty has a Human Heart’ and ‘the Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.’ It’s brilliant.” Louis nods and waits for Harry to agree. Instead, Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks confused.

“Did I miss something?” Louis asks. Harry doesn’t really say anything. He continues on, looking confused and at a loss for words.

Grimshaw cuts in, “I think Harry might have been referencing the other ‘Divine Image’ poem. The one from _ Songs of Innocence _ .”

Harry nods.

_ Oh. Oops _ .

Louis isn’t really sure how to bounce back from that small confusion, so he waits for Harry to speak again. He should really stop waiting on that, because it seems that Harry doesn’t really respond to that sort of expectation.

“Harry, did you want to talk to us about ‘The Divine Image,’ then?”

Harry shrugs, and does open his mouth to speak.

“Well, I mean. I just think it’s a really lovely idea. It seems like… about equality and stuff to me. When I first read it, I thought it sounded like a Proverb or something with the last two lines. ‘Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell, There God is dwelling too.’ And to me it’s just, um, it’s comforting, I guess.”  Harry is fiddling with his own hands as he speaks, slowly, as if each phrase is more unfamiliar than the last. “That I’m not the only one who thinks those are important values to have. Well, except for Pity I suppose, but even pity is appropriate sometimes.” Louis watches as Harry’s fingers keep reaching for his lips. This time Louis is the one with furrowed eyebrows, transfixed by Harry’s words and motions.

“Louis, you look like you have something to say...” Grimshaw inquires. Louis feels his eyebrows shoot up, surprised he’s been addressed at all. He nearly forgot other people could see him. 

“Well, it’s just… that’s lovely and all, Harry. I can see why it would be comforting, but I think I like the other ‘Divine Image’ better because it’s much more relatable. The worst things in the world—cruelty, jealousy, secrecy—they all come from humanity just as much as mercy, love, and peace do. But those are like, these unreachable standards. So I suppose it’s not as comforting to me then. It’s just unrealistic.”

Everyone looks a little defeated by that—especially Harry—and Louis certainly hadn’t meant to do that. He was just being honest. He didn’t think it would result in the group looking at him like he’s just told them Santa doesn’t exist. Maybe that early revelation is where pessimism comes from. Or later, when you realize that Santa and world peace are synonymous. 

“Harry, I think that you’re right,” Lottie says, indignantly breaking the silence. “Ignore his pessimistic arse and just know that I thought the first poem was lovely too. And maybe innocence is naïve, and maybe Blake meant those things as an unreachable standard, but I think in this case I’d have to disagree with him.”

The whole room nods emphatically, and Louis tries not to feel cornered.

“I didn’t mean the other poem was totally wrong, exactly,” Louis says, defensively. “I guess I just haven’t experienced as much mercy as I have cruelty in the last few years.”

He shouldn’t have said it, because now the room is looking at him with sad eyes. This might be the Pity that Harry deems appropriate, but Louis doesn’t appreciate it.

“You’re still an arse,” Lottie says with a smirk and a sarcastic glint in her eye.

Everyone laughs, and the discussion returns to its former vivacity.

Louis discusses how much he loves the ‘London _ ’ _ poem and Perrie agrees, saying how much fun it is to people watch in the streets and wonder where people are going and where they come from. Michael talks about how much he loves ‘A Poison Tree’ and what he thinks it says about conflict in relation to innocence versus experience.

What bothers Louis throughout the rest of the discussion is Harry’s lack of involvement. Louis wonders if it’s his fault. He hadn’t meant to shoot Harry down. He had merely misunderstood what poem they were talking about in the first place. Louis isn’t even sure why it bothers him so much. All he knows is that the last few times he’s spoken to Harry it’s made him bright and vibrant, and now Louis feels responsible for his uncomfortable shifting and dimmed spirit.

“Alright, bookies. Thanks for everything you’ve contributed today. It seems you all really loved William Blake and I’m glad. He’s a personal favorite of mine.” Nick smiles around the table, as though each of these people have personally gifted him with a labradoodle puppy. “For next meeting, I’ve selected an actual novel. I know some of you might be thinking it’s about time.”

He winks at Elaine, and she giggles in spite of herself. How adorable. Elaine must find the quiff charming. Poor lost soul.

“So, if you’ll all leave your copies of  _ Songs of Innocence and Experience _ in front of you, I’ll be trading it out for  _ Jane Eyre. _ ”

Perrie groans. “For real?  _ Jane Eyre _ ?”

“Got a problem with it, Perrie?” Nick asks, amused.

Perrie sighs. “I’ve just…I’ve read it a few times.”

“Didn’t enjoy it?”

“I’ll try to read it with a clean slate this time,” Perrie grumbles.

Louis has never read it, so he wonders what might make Perrie so irked at the thought of it. He places his copy of Blake on the table and switches with Grimshaw when he comes around.

It appears Lottie is approaching, so Louis stands and picks up his book. He’s surprised when Lottie walks right past him and approaches Harry, who is stood behind him. Lottie envelops Harry in a big hug. Louis watches as Harry’s eyes widen in surprise, and then magically soften. He hugs her back. Louis feels his stomach tighten. It’s sweet to watch, but Louis doesn’t really know why it’s giving him the smallest pull at his insides. When Lottie lets go, she looks up at his tall figure and says, “Harry, would you like to walk with Louis and I?”

Harry seems taken aback by her question. Confused, he shrugs, “I mean… I guess, I… I could?”

Louis notices Harry looking at him with a question in his eyes. A question that Louis really doesn’t want Harry to feel like he should ask. Louis smiles as warmly as he can manage, though he’s afraid he looks more uncomfortable than anything. He’s just not sure what Lottie’s angle is. He should let her know that Harry isn’t single or age appropriate for that matter, if this is a weird crush. Louis should probably check in on the state of her and Peter. It’s been awhile since he’s heard about him.

“I’m sorry, I look like a proper nutter,” Lottie laughs. “I just thought you looked like you could use a hug. Sometimes I look like that, and recently someone approached me and did exactly this. I thought they were crazy too, but it really made me feel better.”

And then something beautiful happens. Harry smiles. It’s a real smile and it reaches his eyes and Louis isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything so beautiful before. The boy’s got dimples and he looks like unadulterated joy personified. How did Lottie even  _ do _ that?

“Thank you,” he says, the magic smile everpresent. “It did make me feel better.”

“Well good. I also just happened to notice that you walk out of here alone every time. And if you’d like the company, Louis and I would love for you to join us on our walk home.”

Louis stares at Lottie, a little shocked. Has she always been this straightforward? What have she and Talia been talking about?

“Wouldn’t we, Louis?” Lottie asks. This is clearly a cue. Both Harry and Lottie are looking at him as if everything is riding on his answer.

“Of course,” he replies, after a moment’s delay. “Yes, please, Harry. Walk with us.”

Harry smiles again, and it isn’t as gargantuan as the one Lottie got out of him, but Louis will take it.

So they leave the café together, Louis standing just a little bit behind Lottie and Harry as they walk and talk. As they’re walking, Louis can’t help but watch the two of them interact in awe. Louis had made Harry laugh with a few jokes about Wordsworth and a Grimshaw impression, but Lottie has him linking arms with her and skipping. He wants Harry to link arms and skip with  _ him _ .

Well, maybe not exactly  _ that _ . But that’s not the point.

Lottie’s campus is the first stop on their walk. For only a second, Louis thinks that Lottie’s about to abandon Harry with him when instead, she reaches for Louis’ arm so that she has a boy on each side.

“So which way’s yours then, Harry?” Lottie asks, though she’s still walking like she knows where she’s going.

“I’m on Fifth and Bloom,” Harry replies. “But you don’t have to walk me all the way. I’ll gladly make the rest of the trek alone.”

“Nonsense!” Lottie scoffs. “As if I actually considered going out of my way for you.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Louis watches in wonder at the way Harry’s grin slowly reaches his eyes. They sparkle.

Louis is feeling proper left out by now. He nudges Lottie and scrunches his nose at her when she looks up at him. It’s a sorry effort, but Louis isn’t on his A-game at the moment. Still, Lottie laughs and shakes her head at him. “You’re so weird. Harry, isn’t Louis so weird.”

Harry looks at Louis, and Louis sends a truly funny face his way. His eyes cross and he showcases this creepy closed-mouth smile he does. Harry giggles, and Louis feels a little like he’s earned his place.

“Yeah, he is pretty weird. Why do you drag him along, Lottie?”

“Well, you see, my poor brother wouldn’t get out much if it weren’t for me. It’s basically my job to socialize him.”

Louis pulls on a strand of Lottie’s hair. “That’s  _ so _ not true. I get out plenty.”

“When was the last time you went to a pub or something?”

“Last week! Niall and I hung out at the pub, after I was proper social with Harry and his friend Liam! You can ask him!” Louis gestures toward Harry, truly affronted by Lottie’s accusation.

Lottie chuckles and gives Harry a raised brow. “Well? Is that true?”

Harry nods, crooked smile intact. “Lou joined Liam and I on our walk through the park after we found him reading poetry under a tree.”

Harry gives Louis a quick thumbs up, and Louis would find it extremely endearing if he hadn’t just accidentally thrown Louis under the bus in front his sister.

A snort, followed by an evil smirk on Lottie’s face confirms Louis’ fears.

She’s about to give him endless grief, he can feel it. Suddenly, her phone rings. Louis has never been so grateful for modern technology in his  _ life _ .

Lottie picks up. The voice on the other line speaks in an urgent manner. Quick words Louis can’t make out anyway. All the playfulness leaves Lottie’s face and demeanor.

“I’m sorry, I know. I’ll be right there.” She hangs up the phone without a goodbye and releases the arms she’s hooked to. Louis and Harry drop their arms to their own sides respectively.

“Sorry boys, but I’ve got a prior engagement which I completely forgot about. Louis, can I come over later?”

Louis nods without thinking. “‘Course. Not like I’m doing anything.”

Lottie snorts. “What did I tell you, Harry. He needs proper socializing.” She shakes her head and waves, “I’ll see you later, Lou. Have a good week Harry!”

“Good luck, love!”

And suddenly, Lottie is gone, and where both Harry and Louis had their arms linked to something, there’s empty space.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles.

Louis’ whole face doesn’t disguise his incredulity as he asks, “Why on earth are you sorry?”

Harry frowns. “Your sister just volunteered you to walk me home and then left you to do it yourself. So, I’m sorry, and you don’t have to.”

Louis nearly stops walking, if only because he’s amazed at Harry’s sincerity.

“It’s not like it’s hard, Harry,” he chuckles with a shrug. “If I hadn’t wanted to I would’ve left the two of you in the direction of my own flat.”

“Well you didn’t have to go out of your way…”

“But I did. Because you’re good company, and also I always walk this direction out of my way for my sister anyway,” Louis shrugs. Harry purses his lips a little and shrugs back.

“Fifth and Bloom then?” Louis says, with a smile.

Harry’s pursed lips turn up unexpectedly and he nods. “Yeah… I mean, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

“I’m absolutely certain.”

And so they walk, side by side. It’s silent for a while, but Louis doesn’t really mind. That’s new to him, though. Even with his sister, someone he’s one hundred percent comfortable with, he feels this buzzing need within him to keep the silence from swallowing them up. With Harry, it’s like… it’s nice, he supposes. Not comfortable, but necessary, probably. He gets the feeling that Harry might need it and Louis can respect that.

“Remember when Nick caught you doing an impression of him?” Harry asks. He says it so plainly that Louis almost misses it. When it registers he laughs outright.

“Fuck you all. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“It happened too fast! You were too funny and we saw him probably just two seconds before you did!”

“Well thank you,” Louis grins. “I’m glad that the icing on Nick’s hate cake for me was at least funny for you.”

“I don’t think Nick  _ hates _ you,” Harry says with a chuckle.

“Really? Because I think you speak as someone who’s never been on the other end of his stink eye.”

“I think that’s just his face…” Harry says, succumbing to a toothy grin.

Louis laughs, and is ever so pleased to hear Harry’s laugh accompany his own.

“Yeah, might be. Too much time staring in the mirror, perfecting his quiff or something,” Louis laughs again with a small eye roll.

“Yeah…” Harry says.

They fall silent again. They walk side by side with traces of smiles left on their faces, though the new silence has made things a little awkward.

“Hey… Louis?”

Louis perks up at the sound of his name, and waits for Harry to continue. Harry takes a second, seeming to gather his thoughts before he finally asks, “Did you mean what you said in book club today? About like… mercy, and love and peace being unreachable standards? Do you really think that?”

Louis fiddles with the hem of his shirt and shrugs. He already crushed the lovely smile on Harry’s face once today; he isn’t so keen on doing it again. He sighs, because he’s not so keen on lying to him either.

“I mean, I guess I did, yeah. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he can see Harry’s eyebrows furrow, his lower lip pouting out just so, like he’s thinking very hard about something. Louis can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’s disappointed.

“Maybe I only really believe that in terms of the poem,” Louis amends. “Because I think Blake was talking about the world as a whole in that one perspective and to look on the world with completely innocent eyes is to eventually become disappointed.”

Louis should be uncomfortable with the way Harry now looks at him. A second ago Harry had looked very confused and sort of sad, and he still looks that way, but now he’s beaming these thoughts right at Louis.

“Were you disappointed?”

Louis laughs. He doesn’t mean to. He knows it’s a serious question and maybe the reason he laughs is because…well, yeah. He was disappointed. He had as rude an awakening as anyone. Harry doesn’t need to know that.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asks.

Louis shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not. It’s just… I don’t think it’s that, really.”

“Then what is it?”

“Did you read ‘The Human Abstract’?” Louis asks.

Harry nods and Louis sighs. “Well, I think that poem is probably the best perspective to have. Like, the two versions of ‘The Divine Image’ are supposed to be on opposite sides of the spectrum. I think I said something about the other one being more realistic, but I don’t think I meant that, really. That’s an awful way to look at the world, as though everyone is cruel and merciless. It’s just not safe to see the world as this beautiful place either.

“But ‘The Human Abstract’… it’s about balance I think. ‘Pity would be no more, if we did not make somebody poor…’ and all that. These opposites couldn’t exist without the other, which means that they both exist and they’re both important. The world is ugly, but there is love in it.”

“And the world is beautiful, but there’s cruelty in it,” Harry interjects. His words and thoughts sound far away.

“Sure,” Louis says.

Harry stops walking, and Louis turns to face him. They stand for a moment, as Louis wonders what deterred Harry like this.

“Was that your favorite?” 

“Hm?”

“‘The Human Abstract’. Was it your favorite poem?” Harry asks, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, actually. I loved it in uni, so it was fun to revisit it.”

They stand, silent for a moment, before Harry gives a small shrug. “My flat is just around the corner, so I guess I’ll just… I’ll see you later.”

Louis hadn’t even realized they’d walked so far. He nods with a little shrug of his own. “I suppose so, then. See you next book club, Harry.”

Harry nods with a timid wave before Louis realizes that they’ve said goodbye and he should start walking in the other direction. He chuckles a little and waves back before turning around and doing just that.

When Louis walks into his flat later that evening, he finds Lottie on his couch, phone held out and slightly above her. She must’ve finished her previous engagement quickly. Louis wasn’t expecting to see her so soon. Upon closer inspection, he wonders if something went wrong. She would appear normal to most anyone else, but her demeanor feels tense to Louis the closer he gets. 

Her lips are pushed into a pout and Louis isn’t sure whether he should laugh or crash the photo—he opts for both. When he plops down on the couch beside her, her finger accidentally presses the shutter button, capturing both of them in disjointed laughter and unready faces.

“Louis, that was going to be a good one!” Lottie laughs, scrunching her nose at Louis. Louis scrunches his right back while shaking his head.

“You weren’t even smiling! How good could it have been?”

“Really good, alright? You wouldn’t even know.” She scoffs, putting her camera in the air once again.

He watches Lottie’s face as she contorts it slightly, making her eyes smile more without ruining her practiced pout. Louis sees himself in the frame, so he makes a silly face just in time for Lottie to snap the photo.

She giggles at that and hits the save button.

“Don’t you dare post that, Lots.”

Lottie just laughs. She returns her focus to another selfie attempt.

“What’s with all the selfies anyway? I’m here now, this is extremely unnecessary.”

“I’m snapchatting, dumbass,” Lottie scoffs, tossing her hair to the other side of her head. Some of it hits Louis’ cheek and he raises an eyebrow at her. Of course she’s too busy to notice.

“Who ya snapchatting?”

“Peter,” she replies, absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah! How is that going then?”

“We’re fighting.”

Louis furrows his brows at that. He folds his legs under himself and turns to face Lottie. “This is fighting?”

“Yeah,” Lottie shrugs.

“You don’t look angry, though.”

“Well yeah, I can’t look angry in the photos, Louis.” She offers the explanation like it’s the easiest conclusion in the world.

“I’m confused.”

“I can’t look angry in the photos because Peter doesn’t know we’re fighting yet.”

“What the fuck, Lottie? How does he not know? Does he have any idea you’re upset, or…?”

“No, he’s mad at me. But he won’t talk to me about it. But I know he’s angry. So we’re snapchatting like nothing’s wrong.”

Louis doesn’t look any less confused. Lottie just laughs.

“I’m just waiting for him to say something lowkey annoying before I send him my lowkey annoyed face. Then he’ll call me and we might have it out for a bit before he finally tells me what’s bugging him and I’ll tell him that I’m really sick of him doing that, and we might have it out again.”

Louis sits, dumbfounded. “Done this before, then?”

“Once or twice, yeah,” Lottie shrugs. “S’why I wanted to come over.”

“I’m not helping you fight with your boyfriend, Lottie,” Louis says. He shrugs a little, avoiding her eyes.

“That’s fine, Lou.” Lottie rolls her eyes. “I’ve got that part covered. It’s the part after we fight where you come in. Be on my side, yeah?”

Louis just smiles and ruffles the top of her hair. “Undoubtedly.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Lottie picking up her phone periodically to answer Peter. Louis stands up from the couch for a second to disappear into his bedroom. He returns with  _ Jane Eyre _ in hand, to find Lottie staring at her ringing phone.

“Sent that lowkey annoyed face, then?”

Lottie nods, biting her bottom lip.

“You alright, love?”

Lottie nods once more. “I’m gonna take this to your room,” she sighs.

Louis gives her a thumbs-up and picks up his copy of  _ Jane Eyre _ off the floor. Setting his feet up on the coffee table, he opens the book to read. Like clockwork, he hears the front door open instead.

Zayn lets the door fall shut behind him as he says, “Get your feet off the coffee table, you menace.”

“You don’t even  _ live _ here,” Louis counters, not bothering to hide the smile growing on his face.

“Doesn’t matter. I bought that table.”

“Oh fuck off, Niall and I bought it off you.”

“I picked it out first. I am attached and I don’t want you scuffing it.” Zayn pushes Louis’ feet off with his hand as he sits down.

“Scuffing? My socks aren’t going to scuff anything,” Louis laughs.

“Yeah, fine, just keep your filthy feet off my table.”

Louis ruefully does so, and places his feet on Zayn’s lap instead.

“Oi, fuck off, Tommo,” Zayn laughs, shoving them to the floor.

The laughter subsides after a moment. Louis shifts and rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Zaynie.” He elbows him in the ribs.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Zayn folds his arms in front of him and shrugs. 

“So what’s the occasion?”

“Was just bored. Since when do I need an occasion to drop by?” 

“Since you went and got all lawyer-y and deduced that Niall and I weren’t cool enough for you anymore. I get it, but mostly because Nialler would be shit at defending himself to Your Honor and I just don’t have the heart to abandon the poor lad,” Louis winks, and feels his own small smile spread across his face when Zayn laughs.

“I’m not a judge, Lou. No honor here. Definitely not so cool either. I mostly scratch my head a lot and read the same pieces of paper over and over again.”

“But then you manage to help people, so. Not un-cool either then, is it?” He squeezes Zayn’s shoulder.

“You could do that too, you know. Help people.”

Louis’ laugh is more bitter than he’d intended as he shakes his head. “Oh so it’s  _ this _ type of visit then.”

“You know what I mean.” He seeks Louis’ eyes, but Louis has found his own lap a more appealing place to look.

“I can’t help the world much while I’m busy being the coffee bitch now, can I?” Louis shrugs and avoids Zayn’s gaze. “While you’re reading really important documents, I’m the loser that copies them, so. Someone’s got to do it, I guess.” He shrugs, resigned.

“You know that’s bullshit. This isn’t all that’s out there for you, Louis. You’re brilliant. And like, I miss you, but I’d love to see you less if it means you’re doing something that makes you happy.”

“I  _ do _ have things that make me happy! I see Lottie, I see Niall!” Louis protests. At the last minute he throws in, “I’ve been reading more.”

“Yeah, for your book club thing. And like, I’m still not sure what that’s about to be quite honest,” Zayn shrugs. “But I think you should start writing again. For you. Not for anyone else, at least for now. If you write for you, maybe you’ll find something to write for someone else too, Lou.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah, maybe.”

Maybe.

Sitting in his armchair,  _ Jane Eyre _ in hand, Harry wonders where Cam is. It’s not like him to not call or text when he’s staying late, unless he’s too absorbed in his work to notice that it’s nearly seven. That bit is quite like Cam, so Harry isn’t too worried. 

It’s awfully quiet in the flat. Harry thinks about putting on some music, but Cam could walk in at any second and if he’s been working hard, Harry doesn’t want him to complain of a headache. He’d already fixed dinner, and sampled dinner, and gotten rid of the evidence so Cam didn’t think he’d eaten without him. There’s truly nothing else left to do.

Harry drums the arm of his chair with his fingers and huffs out a little sigh before deciding to open his book. He’d tune out whatever noise there was to read anyway. Harry kicks his feet up and turns to the first page.

Something thumps. Harry thinks it might be the door, but when it’s not, he scans the rest of the room quickly for any ideas. This is why he hates silence. It’s unnerving to him. And it isn’t that Harry’s not used to the quiet. He works in a library for god’s sake. He knows how to appreciate and sometimes enforce quiet. But there’s a difference between quiet and silence.

The library is supposed to be quiet, but Harry lives for the moments when its quiet is respectfully broken. When he hears someone snicker down at the book in their hand, when he hears children describing books they’ve read and want to read. When someone grunts out the door because the stack they’re carrying is too heavy. The quiet is like a window, letting Harry see glimpses of something he wouldn’t otherwise.

Silence, on the other hand, makes Harry feel like he’s being swallowed whole.

Harry looks down at his book again, ready to embark on whatever this is, when he hears the thump again. He looks up, curious, and sets his book down. There’s no way he can concentrate if this keeps happening. He stands up and scans the flat, knowing he’s alone, but feeling like he’d better check anyway. When all the rooms prove to be empty, Harry walks to the doors to their tiny terrace. He opens the door quietly to see if the noise is coming from outside.

What Harry finds is a warm breeze and a newly clear head. Maybe he should take his book outside for a while. There’s no room for a chair, but he isn’t opposed to sitting on the floor if it means he can hear the sounds outside.

Another thump draws Harry’s attention to another tiny terrace next door. Harry looks away before he registers what’s actually happening. The sound seems to be coming from a foot, occasionally hitting the side of their building. This foot could probably care less about the sound it’s sent to the surrounding flats, seeing as it is caught in a moment of passion. Harry takes another look, relieved to find the couple fully clothed, only lost in each other. Harry smiles.  They can’t be much older than twenty.

He decides against bringing his book outside now that he’s discovered the cause of the thump. Best to give the pair some privacy. Harry laughs a little when he closes the door behind him. There was once a time when Harry was so eager, so caught up in loving and being loved, he hadn’t noticed any of his own surroundings either. Being with someone as long as he’s been with Cam sort of changes that for a person, Harry supposes. Though it’s been awhile since he really initiated anything at all. Harry occasionally wonders why Cam hasn’t either.

Suddenly, Harry hears the familiar click of the door and sets his book down on the table. He notices Cam’s demeanor is heavy—he drags his feet over to where Harry stands by the table. Harry offers him a feeble welcome home smile. It grows when Cam brings his lips to Harry’s forehead.

“You, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes.”

Harry blushes slightly as he wraps his arms around Cam’s waist, tugging him closer. When Cam brings their lips together, Harry wonders if maybe tonight he should try for something. It’s not as though Cam’s been  _ withholding _ sex at all.

Harry pulls away and meets his eyes, smirking a little.

“You hungry?”

“Starved,” Cam replies before connecting their lips once more. He kisses Harry hungrily, and Harry giggles, pulling away.

“M’serious. I made dinner. Was waiting for you to get home.”

Cam sighs a little, placing his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“Everything okay?” Harry asks, bringing a hand to the back of Cam’s head. He pets the short hair there, waiting for Cam to answer. “I mean, I can wait. I just wanted to make sure you’re, like, nourished.”

Cam snorts and shakes his head. “You’re too much, you know that?”

Harry thinks it was meant to be a compliment. He should probably be beaming because he  _ is _ too much, he loves too much and that’s a great quality to have. But there’s also something in the way he laughed. It was shallow and short and maybe a little irritated, and Harry’s not sure why. And he isn’t sure what he could possibly have done wrong.

But maybe the way Cam laughed just then has absolutely nothing to do with it. That’s probably all in Harry’s head. All of it is probably in his head and everything’s fine. Cam is seated at the dinner table, and waiting for Harry to serve him food and that’s fine. Normal, even.

Harry pulls the baked ziti out of the oven, and puts it on two plates. He probably has to zap the vegetables before he seasons them, but Cam won’t notice when he scoops more food on his plate anyway. So he sets the food in front of him and turns back to the kitchen to finish.

“Thought you said you’d already made it.”

“I did, I just wanted the vegetables to be fresh.”

“They’re frozen anyway.”

“Now they are, but give me a minute and I’ll just use the steam ones.”

“I really just want to be with you right now, Haz. I think you should just forget the vegetables.”

“It’ll only take a minute though,” Harry shrugs, and Cam just laughs again. Harry tries to disregard the way his heart falls a bit.

“Just fuck the vegetables and sit down, Haz.”

Harry does exactly that. He sits down and he watches Cam take a bite of the pasta. He’s silent a moment, willing himself to take a bite from his own plate. He’s just not so hungry anymore.

“Had a bad day, then?” Harry asks.

“Yes it was, Harry. A truly shit day, if I’m honest. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, forcing another forkful in his mouth.

Cam sighs and smiles. “Thank you for dinner, Harry. Sorry I’m in such a shit mood.”

“S’okay,” Harry shrugs, “I get it.”

“Stop frowning, love,” Cam says, putting Harry’s hand in his. “Let me see that pretty smile.”

Harry looks up at him and tries, and when Cam squeezes his hand reassuringly, he thinks he begins to mean it.

“There it is,” Cam whispers, petting Harry’s hand in his with his thumb. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for some shit telly and a cuddle. You can even read if you want.”

Harry’s smile remains as he nods his head. Cam pushes his plate away and Harry resolves to clean later, when Cam’s asleep. For now they reach the loveseat and settle into each other, Cam’s arm around Harry’s waist as Harry thumbs through his book, finding his way back to page one.

He’s about a page and a half into Jane’s childhood struggle when he recalls a phrase from this afternoon.

_ The world is beautiful, but there is cruelty in it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was worth the wait. :) 
> 
> I also hope you go read all of those William Blake poems and come chat with me about them. A girl can dream, right?  
> If by chance you do have things to say you could leave a nice comment or come talk to me on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com). :)


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back so soon! Can you believe it? :D 
> 
> Thank you Jacky for being such a lovely person and for all of your help and kind words. And thank you [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) for your time and friendship and everything else. <3 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Harry knows this is a bad idea. It’s an  _ awful _ idea. There is no universe in which this could end well simply because because it involves secrets.  _ Multiple _ secrets, if Cam asks as many questions as he usually does. And not only is Harry awful under pressure, he’s also a shit liar. There is no way he’s going to get away with this. Harry can only keep so many things from Cam at a time before it becomes obvious against his own will.

“Would you just  _ relax _ , Harry?” Liam calls from the kitchen. “I can actually  _ feel _ your anxiety all the way in here. Calm down.”

“You didn’t  _ tell _ me he was coming, Liam,” Harry huffs, sinking further into the edge of the couch.

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal!” Liam says, as he turns the corner. He flips a cap off a beer and hands it off to Harry.

“You should have told me anyway,” Harry says, begrudgingly sipping from the bottle.

“Why?” Liam shrugs. “I figured we’re all friends. We said we’d all hang out again. I was just staying true to my word!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be shady about it,” Harry says, rolling his eyes.

“Not true!” Liam retorts. “You’re just so damn flaky right now. I can’t tell you details if I expect you to actually come out at all — and part of me figured you wouldn’t show up anyway.”

“That’s only because usually the details you omit are…things that I just…I shouldn’t do. I shouldn’t be here.”

Liam nods, and fails to conceal his annoyed eyeroll. “I know, Haz.”

“Now don’t do that. It’s not what you think,” Harry starts. “It’s not  _ because _ of him. He didn’t actually tell me I couldn’t be here. I just don’t like keeping things from him, is all.” 

Liam makes a face, and shakes it off the moment Harry inquires about it.

“What?”

“Nothing, Harry.”

“No, what is it?” Harry presses.

“Do you need a coaster for your beer?”

“No, Liam, I don’t. And don’t change the subject. What the hell was that look for?” Harry urges.

“It’s nothing, Haz. Nothing new anyway, alright?” Liam shrugs, passive aggressively. Harry meets his eyes but immediately regrets it. He sees nothing but pity and concern about something that shouldn’t concern Liam at all. Harry’s  _ here _ , after all. This is above and beyond for him.

He sighs and insists anyway. “Well, out with it then.”

Liam sits and folds his hands in his lap. “He didn’t say no because you didn’t give him the chance to. I just don’t like the way you let him keep  _ tabs _ on you, Haz. It’s not healthy.”  

Harry stands because he can’t bear to sit down and take it anymore. He knows Liam means well, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to judge his relationship this way. “ _ Secrets _ aren’t healthy, especially not in a long term relationship. And you  _ expect _ me to keep secrets all the time. I can’t do this today, alright? I’ll just...” Harry motions to the door as he goes to exit. 

Not even a moment later, there’s a short knock.

Harry’s eyes widen. He turns to meet Liam’s apologetic gaze.

“Is he already here?” Harry asks, barely audible, but no less incredulous.

Liam throws his arms out and says “Well, what do you think?” 

Harry stands motionless. There’s a second knock on the door behind him. He contemplates making his exit through the fire escape, but he’s clumsy and it’s sort of chilly today. Instead he gives Liam one more pleading look, as though it would fix anything at all. 

“Looks like you better let him in then, Haz.” He motions toward the door with his head.

Harry huffs again. Damn Liam Payne.

“Fine. I’ll stay for a few minutes and that’s  _ it _ , Liam.”

Liam beams, to Harry’s dismay. Suddenly he hears a third knock, followed by a, “Hello? Anybody home?”  

Harry jumps at the sound. Liam gestures for him to answer the door. Harry grimaces.  

When he finally opens the door, the sight of Louis’ bright blue eyes, widened in surprise, strikes him as unexpected, yet captivating.

“Oh, uh. Hey, Harry.” Louis waves before closing his hand into a fist and throwing it to his side, like he’s realized how stupid it is to wave at someone who is standing quite literally in front of him. Harry smiles and feels his heart rate quicken and slow again as he allows himself a full breath. 

“Hi, Lou.” Harry tries for a casual response, but wonders if he seems too interested or excited. He’s never been good at disguising his feelings, and truthfully, he’s excited that Louis is here. 

“Louis! How are you, mate?” Liam calls, pushing past Harry to shake Louis’ hand. Harry watches them do this bro-handshake thing that he himself has never been really good at and just continues smiling.

“Good, good. How are you two doing?”

“Just swell, mate. Come in! Want something to drink?”

Louis nods. “Sure, yeah. What have you got?”

“Beer mostly,” Liam says, his smile sheepish. 

Louis laughs. “Beer it is, then!”

“You can have a seat anywhere. Harry was just about to turn on the TV. I think there’s some footie on tonight.”

Harry pipes up. “Yeah! I think Man U’s playing tonight.”

“And by that, Harry means he’s been counting down the hours and he would be pissed if I made him miss it,” Liam laughs.

“So the bookworm’s a football fan, then?” Louis smirks.

Harry smiles at the nickname. It’s nice that Louis remembered and isn’t, like, mocking him for it. Teasing maybe, but there’s no venom in it. 

“Yeah. I admit though, in uni I was known to take a book to a game sometimes.”

Louis laughs. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

They share a smile before the room falls silent. Liam is huffing about something in the kitchen, and Harry can’t help but laugh at Liam’s expense. “Okay, Li?”

“Fine! Just...” he grunts, “trying to pull this pan out!”

“For what?”

“Gonna make a frozen pizza!”

“Need help?” Harry asks, grinning.

“I’m fine!” Liam calls, panting.

Louis shakes his head with a laugh. “Is he always like this?”

“Like what?” Harry says, setting his now empty beer bottle on the table.

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Hilariously accommodating?”

With an answering shrug, Harry admits, “Only for special guests.”

Louis scrunches his eyebrows with a twinkle in his eye. “Am I special?”

“No, I am,” Harry is quick to reply.

“Oh well pardon me, sir,” Louis says with a laugh. He tips an imaginary hat and Harry feels something like delight swelling in his chest. 

“I will pardon you…” Harry says slowly, treading carefully. His grin is sly when he looks up at Louis again to amend, “once you’ve retrieved another beer for me.”

“Funny way to treat a guest,” Louis snorts.

“Hey, we’ve been through this. I’m the special guest here,” Harry’s smile grows impossibly wider when he finds he’s won and Louis stands to ask Liam for a beer.

When Louis returns, Harry thanks him kindly for the beverage and sits back. The room falls silent again. It’s disappointing. He’d really like to continue whatever it was he and Louis were doing. Banter with someone quick witted. As Harry’s grown older, he’s learned to take his time speaking, but he enjoys talking to people who seem to think faster than he does. It’s challenging and fun and different. He doesn’t have time to really think about his words because he just wants to keep up. And it’s those types of people that end up believing Harry’s the quick witted one. Finding that with someone now makes Harry feel younger. 

“We can watch something else if you want,” Harry offers.

Louis shakes his head with a smile. “It’s alright. I love a bit of footie.”

“Really, Liam was just kidding about me. It’s not like Cam isn’t going to relay the whole game for me later anyway,” Harry shrugs.

“Well, let him,” Liam says, joining them in the living room.

One side of Louis’ mouth is quirked up, and Harry notes this soft, or maybe delicate demeanor — like he’s comfortable with his current company. Settled. And suddenly, Harry is awash with relief that Louis didn’t catch Harry’s mention of Cam. Or maybe it’s not relief. Maybe it’s guilt. 

Liam turns the volume on and bounces back into the kitchen to grab a bag of crisps. “Let’s do this boys!”

Harry should probably just go. He doesn’t want to get so sucked into the game that he stays until the end, because then he might be asked to stay longer, and who knows how long that could be. Cam will call him before the game is over anyway and then what will Harry tell him? He could tell him that he was at dinner with some new friends, but there’s no need to upset Cam over not including him in something. And besides that, Harry doesn’t really want to introduce Cam to Louis because. Well. If Cam thinks that  _ Liam _ is threatening, then he surely wouldn’t approve of Louis. Louis is vibrant, and loud, and gorgeous, and easy to talk to...

Which is precisely the reason Harry should go. Instead, it’s the reason he stays.

That’s when Harry catches Louis staring. He meets Louis’ gaze for a moment. Louis’ eyes sparkle when he realizes he’s been caught. He looks away quickly, but Harry smiles in return. Harry tries to tune back in to the game, only to feel Louis’ eyes on him again.

Louis regards Harry like a particularly frustrating crossword puzzle. Something in his eyes suggests that Harry should know what he’s thinking. This silent exchange is a lot like the hesitant conversation on their walk home just last week. Louis had been just like this — unusually soft and open for someone so typically loud and opinionated. The only difference now is that Louis doesn’t seem at all flustered. He’s calm and inquisitive. He’s leaned back against the couch, but it  _ feels _ like he’s leaning toward Harry with a question on the tip of his tongue, waiting for Harry to figure it out. When he looks up from his lap, wary of what he’ll find, Louis tilts his head with a warm smile.

“What?” Harry asks.

“It’s nothing,” Louis says. He sits up, waving a hand dismissively.

“No.” The furrow in Harry’s brow deepens. “What is it?”

“It’s not important.” Louis shrugs. “You’re just. Different.”

“Different how?” Harry asks, cautiously.

“You’re just. You’re  _ funny _ . And your hands aren’t folded in your lap, and you haven’t been looking at the ground quite as often, and you seem… at ease. It’s nice.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, I don’t know. At book club you’re just.” Louis grazes his lower lip with his teeth, pondering. “You seem really nervous and sometimes it’s like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

“That’s because dear Harold here doesn’t know how to function around other people who enjoy reading as much as he does,” Liam comments, teasingly. Harry had completely forgotten he was there. It seems, by the way Louis corrects his position so that Liam is included, that he had forgotten too.

“That’s not true. I love going to book club. I only look uncomfortable because I’m not used to discussions in large groups. You all talk on top of each other and it’s hard to concentrate.”

“You don’t spend a lot of time with groups of people.” Louis says it like it’s a fact. 

Harry answers it like it’s a question.“Not really, no.”

Louis hums from beside him and crosses his arms before looking back to the television. Harry can’t bring himself to disengage from this conversation though. He feels deprived of a few answers.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“What?” 

“What do you mean by ‘hm’?”

Louis chuckles. “I just think it’s interesting, is all.”

“Interesting? How do you mean, interesting?”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal, mate. I promise.”

Oh shit. Harry’s done it again. Cam hates it when he does this, when he pries for information he doesn’t need. If Louis wanted to share what he was thinking, he would have, and Harry really should have just kept his mouth shut.

“Okay, sorry,” he mumbles, looking back to the game. He’s completely lost track of what’s happened now and is having a hard time even finding the score. He should probably just go.

“Haz, you alright?” Liam asks, from across the room.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry says. “I should probably go though.”

“But you just got here!” Liam says.

“I know, Li. I told you I couldn’t stay long.” Harry stands up and brushes himself off.

“Is Cameron really so helpless he can’t get his own bowl of crisps for the game?”

“Shut up, Liam.” Harry’s growing more and more self conscious every second. It’s worse with Louis standing by, watching the exchange. 

Harry goes to walk towards the door and feels pairs of eyes on him as he slips on his boots. He was hoping for a quiet exit but the silence surrounding his stumbling and bumbling isn’t helping. He wishes he could just stay without it causing him genuine anxiety, but he also wishes that Liam would just let him go and stop  _ looking _ at him like that.  He glances around the room for his book and finds it sitting on the corner of the coffee table. Liam approaches, against Harry’s silent wishes and grabs him by the arm before asking, “Harry, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, Li, I’m fine,” Harry says to Liam’s chest.

“Look, do you really have to go? Or do you just need to chat with me for a second?”

“I just don’t want to be here right now. I want to go home,” Harry says. It’s not really true, and Harry might walk around his own block a few times to avoid going inside, but no one else needs to know that. When he gets in, he can just tell Cam he’s been on a long walk and it won’t be a lie.

Liam gives him a final look, admitting defeat. 

Harry walks past him to retrieve his book. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry mutters one last time, and then he’s out the door. 

Louis watches Harry leave the flat. Liam makes his way to the sofa, completely dejected. 

Smoke wafts into the living room, and Liam’s eyes go big when he remembers the pizza he’d placed in the oven a while ago. Liam leaves in a panic and Louis sinks deeper into the sofa.

Louis can’t help but feel like this is all his fault. He’d completely misread the moment. He’d thought Harry had been comfortable, hadn’t guessed that his own prodding had been pushing Harry away instead of inviting him closer. Louis just can’t seem to figure him out. One second he’s laughing and joking, and the next Louis does something that sends him skittering across the room like a frightened cat.

When Liam comes back, he takes a seat on the floor in front of him and sighs loudly.

“Was it something I said?” Louis asks, after a beat.

Liam looks up from the floor and shrugs. “I don’t even know anymore, mate.”

“He’s just like that then? Fidgety and nervous? Does he run away a  _ lot _ ?”

“He never used to.”

“What happened, then?”

“I really have no idea. He used to be one of the most open and honest people I had ever met in my life. He had the most infectious optimism. Threw peace signs out because he meant them, not concerned at all that it made him look like a twat.” Liam chuckles lowly before continuing. “He believed the world was a beautiful place and that all anyone really needed was a little kindness.”

“And something just… changed? Did something happen, or?”

“Yeah, I suppose something did.”

“What was it, then?” Louis asks, probably too eager.

Liam continues with a sad smile. “Don’t know if I could even tell you, to be honest.”

Louis deflates. “Just wish I knew what I did to send him running like that. Happens a lot. And I never mean to hurt him or anything.”

“Nah, Lou. You just make him nervous, I reckon. Not many people bother to question him,” Liam shrugs.

“But how? I’m so unintimidating. He met me at a fucking book club for Christ’s sake! One that I attend with my sister!”

Liam laughs. “It’s okay, Louis. It’s not just you, I swear. He runs from me too. All the time.”

They sit in silence for a few beats. Louis’ beginning to feel embarrassed about his small outburst. Liam looks too sad to really care, though.

“How long have the two of you been friends?”

“We grew up together. Known him for most of my life.” 

“Does he have any other friends?” Louis asks. At this point, he’s sure Liam thinks he’s being far too curious. There’s just something about Harry, something that makes Louis feel like he should care.

“No. Just me. Me and Cameron.”

“Yeah, where is Cameron anyway? Like, why don’t I ever see him and Harry together?”

“Harry just doesn’t cart him around — or rather, Cam doesn’t cart Harry around. Harry would if Cam would let him. They’re very private.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Can I ask… erm, how serious is it? Like Harry’s mentioned that they’re together but…”

“They’re engaged.”

Louis freezes and suddenly feels awash with something like guilt, but maybe fear too. He’d been aware from the start that he had no chance, but he’s suddenly very aware of how much he had still hoped. For what exactly, he doesn’t know, but it doesn’t feel like there’s much of that hope left.

“Louis, can I be one hundred percent honest with you?” Liam has his hands folded in front of him as he leans forward on his knees.

“Course,” Louis shrugs, meeting Liam’s eyes. They’re serious and dark.

“I can’t really tell you a lot about Harry because there isn’t much he himself has told me. You like Harry, right?”

“I mean, I think he’s nice,” Louis stammers out. He’s not positive he understands what Liam means. “Can’t quite figure him out, but yeah, I guess, I, uh… I like him? He’s cool.”

“He is cool,” Liam smiles, a glint in his eyes. “And he’s a little lost right now. Like I said, he’s nothing like the person I grew up with anymore. I mean, he is. It’s just sort of… pushed down?” Liam slumps forward, placing his hands on his knees. “I don’t know, but I guess that’s why I’m still the only friend he has. We’re brothers. He knows that no matter how shitty it all gets, I’ll be there. And I know and expect the same of him.”

Things are starting to click into place for Louis. His mind flashes to all the times he saw just a start, a spark, in Harry’s eyes and demeanor and understands what Liam means by “pushed down.” Speaking with Harry often feels like watching someone in a constant battle with their thoughts and feelings. It hurts to watch -- more so knowing Harry’s not always been that way. 

“I’ve got something to admit.” Liam winces. “I invited you over because I think we could be great mates. But I also invited you over because Harry needs a friend.” Louis chews on the bottom of his lip, his eyes never leaving Liam’s. “I’m not going to ask you to do anything specific, Louis. I know that wouldn’t be right. But I love Harry, and he needs a friend. One that isn’t his brother.”

“I mean, I thought I was his friend, already,” Louis says, a little unsure. “So… shouldn’t be a problem.”

Liam sighs, but his eyes get a little brighter. “Great.”

It seems with that, the discussion’s over. Liam woefully offers Louis a piece of burnt Tesco pizza, and in a moment of solidarity, Louis accepts. 

Their night ends shortly after that, what with Harry’s dramatic exit and Liam’s important request putting a damper on the light mood of Lads’ Night. Louis sticks it out until the end of the game, but then decides to head out. Liam looks a little disappointed, but he understands.

On his way home, Louis takes out his phone and hopes Lottie might pick up.

 

“But it’s stupid, Lottie,” Louis argues.

His sister had picked up, and had subsequently come over, but not before Louis was able to break out a bottle of wine. 

“It’s  _ not _ though!” Lottie replies, indignant.

“It  _ is, _ because Jane could be doing so much more than she is! Not only do I remain uninterested in her romantic exploits, but I’m also rather disappointed by her taste in men.” Louis is trying very hard not to spill his wine, but his sister keeps reminding him why he’s angry at this damn book, and Louis talks with his hands. At least if he spills, it’s Lottie’s fault. Also it’s white wine — an easy clean.

“That makes you the opposite of disinterested, Louis. You can’t think the entire book is stupid just because you don’t like some of Jane’s actions.

“That’s precisely why I’ve chosen to remain uninterested.”

“But you aren’t though!” Lottie says, shrilly. She stands from her seat to refill her water glass.

“ARE TOO!” Louis yells after her. Niall takes his wine glass for safe keeping. Bless Niall. In the heat of this very mature debate, he hadn’t noticed Niall settling in.

Niall drinks beer from his own glass and shakes his head. “You know it’s cool if you care about something, Tommo.”

“I  _ care _ about a lot of things, Niall, but Jane Eyre is  _ not _ one of those things.”

“Dunno Lou, you just seem really hell-bent on convincing us you aren’t. It’s not helping your case.” Niall chuckles like he doesn’t care either way, but Louis shoots him a look that makes him raise beer and wine filled hands to his ears in surrender.

“Look Louis,” Lottie starts, “I just have to ask — what else could she be doing? You’re so disappointed that she hasn’t, like, made a name for herself or summat, but that’s not who Jane is! And besides that, she’s a woman in the Victorian era. There’s no way to fend for herself out there beyond what she’s doing already!” She shrugs and sips her water.

“All I know is that Rochester is an asshat and Jane deserves better.”

Lottie throws her head back laughing. “And so the truth comes out!”

“Whatever. I still don’t care. I just hate it. It infuriates me.”

“Do you have a real reason to hate Rochester? Like, at all?”

“Well, other than his arrogance, no. But I’m sure something will come up.”

“So you haven’t finished it, then.” Lottie smirks.

“No. Why? What do you know?” Louis’ eyes widen and he leans in further with each question. “Just how big of an asshat  _ is _ the fair troll?”

“Oh my god, he’s not a  _ troll _ , Louis,” she rolls her eyes. “He’s just a little rough around the edges, is all.”

“The very description of him is a fuckin’ troll. I bet he’s short, too.”

“I’m pretty sure it says he’s tall.”

“But even Jane says he’s ugly, so he’s a troll.”

“You’re hopeless, and I’m done having this conversation.” Lottie laughs, setting her drink down before standing up.

“Don’t walk away from me young lady! You still have secrets to unveil!” Louis practically yells from his seat.

“Oh my god, Louis, I’m going to use the toilet,” Lottie laughs. “Nialler, cut Louis off!” she calls as she disappears down the hall.

“Already done, Lots!” Niall says. Only then does Louis realize that his wine glass is no longer in Niall’s hand. It’s been dumped in the sink. Niall is a traitor if he’s ever met one.

“That’s so  _ unfair _ , though!” Louis cries. “She’s only doing this because I don’t like the asshat!”

Niall shakes his head. “No,  _ I’m _ doing it because it’s a  _ Tuesday _ , and you’re yelling about fictional characters in the living room. No more wine for Tommo.”

“You’re Irish! What do you care if I drink on a Tuesday?”

“You’re not the one who has to drag you out of bed the next morning, Lou,” Niall laughs. “If you’ll go out with me Friday, I’ll let you drink all the wine you want.”

“But by then, I might be more of a vodka man.”

Niall barks a laugh. “Well then, all the better. We’ll get you plastered Friday night then, yeah?”

“Okay, but Niall,” Louis says, lowering his voice slightly. Like a child, Niall listens closely, so as not to miss anything. “Niall, come here.”

He does. Louis motions for Niall to come closer, and again, Niall obliges, a smirk growing on his face.

Louis leans into Niall’s ear and says, “Niall, I have an idea.”

Niall snickers, probably trying to keep from laughing too hard.

“What if, Niall, what  _ if _ … we pretended it was Friday now.”

Niall practically guffaws. He pulls away and shakes his head.

When Lottie returns from the bathroom, Niall is still laughing.

“What’s happened then?” she asks, all concern, but she’s smiling.

“Niall thinks I’m a drunkard.”

“This Louis is broken and I think we need a new one,” Niall says, and Lottie laughs.

Louis pouts, genuinely missing his wine, as he’d like to sip it with defiance.

“Oh, Lou,” Lottie says, her tone drenched in faux-pity. She places her hands on Louis’ cheeks.

Louis scrunches his face up in her hands and insists, “I’m not even that  _ drunk _ !”

“Love, you’re yelling at me about the love interest in a Victorian novel.”

“But he’s an ASSHAT!”

Lottie sits. She puts her arms around his middle and presses her cheek against his arm. He hums and lays his head down on the couch.

“Lou, I think you need to finish the book and then come talk to me about Rochester.”

“I think you need to get over your little crush and tell me what else is wrong with him.”

“See, but you want to argue, and until you finish, your hatred has no ground to stand on.”

Louis exhales loudly, hoping it can even begin to convey his frustration.

It becomes very quiet after that. Louis isn’t sure how it happened, but Niall is sitting on the floor, scrolling through something on his phone, while Lottie is being patronizing and patting Louis’ head. It becomes increasingly more difficult not to close his eyes and fall asleep.

Before he gives in, though, his mind wanders to Liam’s words from earlier — the ones about Harry needing a friend. The words he’d meant to talk to Lottie about before he opened that wine bottle. But now, with his heavy, muddled brain, he sort of sees what Liam meant. Louis remembers Liam’s intense gaze and Harry’s fidgeting hands, but he also remembers his easy laugh and green eyes — that glint of mischief and humor. Maybe being Harry’s friend won’t prove to be that difficult at all. It might even be nice.

Louis just needs to find a way to make those terrified doe eyes go away permanently. He needs to find a way to keep them warm and laughing. If anyone deserves to feel comfortable in this world, it’s Harry. He’s kind and optimistic and not to mention absolutely stunning to look at.

And engaged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, things are about to get really interesting I promise. :)
> 
> If you're enjoying this, comments, questions, and predictions are the light of my life and you would be a close second. <3  
> [](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com>Tumblr</a>%20is%20also%20a%20good%20place%20to%20stop%20by%20and%20say%20hello.%20:\))


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello.   
> I come bearing gifts. :) 
> 
> Thank you [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) and [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) for lending your time and efforts. I'm eternally grateful. <3 
> 
> This is one of my favorite chapters, so I sincerely hope you enjoy it. :)

Louis doesn’t know what he thinks he’s doing. It’s much brighter outside than usual today, but the wind is blowing against him as he walks. He keeps messing with his fringe, as if the breeze won’t knock it out of place a moment later. He feels determined, with a very clear goal in mind. Clear, apart from the fact that he doesn’t know what outcome he’s looking for. Especially seeing as this may be one of the weirdest things he’s done in a while. Weirder than that time he read poetry under a tree. That was a low point, but really only Louis can judge himself for that nonsense.  _ This _ , on the other hand, might just be downright creepy. 

Louis isn’t even 100% sure that Harry even  _ works _ at this particular library. He just knows where Harry lives, and since he doesn’t seem to have a car, he must work somewhere he can commute to easily. This place was the only likely candidate. It’s a pretty obvious deduction. So Louis is Sherlock, not creepy. And besides that, his goal is friendship. He’s forcing it a little, but it’s for a good cause.

Willing himself to walk inside still proves to be a challenge. He stands across the street, facing the library, and tries to tell himself it’s not too late. He can find a way to see Harry without being a stalker about it. He doesn’t even have Harry’s phone number, so the only way to do this is to casually run into him someplace, and this is the only place Harry might be on a regular basis. He came to this conclusion using Sherlockian methods, but he’s beginning to wonder if Sherlock himself is just a weirdo. Maybe Louis shouldn’t be emulating him. 

Louis takes a deep breath, collects himself, and reminds himself again that it’s a  _ library _ for god’s sake—it’s not too difficult to pretend that he actually needs a book. There was also a point in Louis’ life where the dramatic arts seemed like his calling; he’s positive he can muster up a surprised “didn’t expect to find you here” face. He’s just worried that Harry will see right through him. He’s afraid Harry will gape at him with those big eyes and somehow sense Louis’ ulterior motives. The small, subtle ones that even  _ he _ hasn’t fully admitted to himself yet. 

Louis has probably waited long enough. Someone he saw walk in earlier is leaving with a bag full of books, so at this point Louis not only  _ feels _ creepy, but he probably  _ looks _ creepy. It’s time to grow some balls and go inside. As he goes to cross the street,  a familiar figure leaves the library with a paper sack and a book. Louis looks on as Harry squints a little, adjusting to the sunlight, and dawdles to a bench a few feet from the door.

It’s now or never, innit?

“Harry!”

Harry lifts his head from the bench he’s sat on, looking out. He looks confused. Probably because people don’t usually call out his name on the street. So much for his casual run in.

When Harry’s eyes find him, Louis decides he might as well wave. He can’t help the over-enthusiastic smile that spreads across his face. He’s more than relieved when Harry’s dimples make an appearance as he waves back. At this rate, why not embarrass himself even further? 

He starts to run across the street. Of course, Louis throws caution to the wind, and of course there’s a car approaching. To Louis’ horror, the car barely misses him and honks as it screeches to a halt. And  _ of course _ , Harry bears witness to the whole thing.

Louis is mortified. He waves an apology at the driver, who is flipping him the bird and throwing out expletives like it’s his job. Louis walks past the car, and then remembers Harry’s still there and waiting.

Louis sees Harry darting out to meet him, his sack lunch left alone on the bench behind him. He immediately places both hands on Louis’ shoulders and asks, “Louis, are you okay?” 

Louis nods, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Harry stares, probably unsure if Louis’ kidding. “Lou, you almost got hit by a car.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah. That.” Louis can feels his cheeks getting warm, even after Harry’s removed his hands from his shoulders. “That was a little dumb of me. Always look both ways—primary school stuff and I’ve managed to forget.” Louis laughs. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so hysterical.

“Here, why don’t you have a seat? I was just having some lunch.”

Louis follows Harry’s lead, shaking his head when Harry can’t see. He’s such an idiot. So stupid. This was supposed to seem  _ casual _ and now Louis’ gone and almost killed or severely injured himself. He’s mortified.

“Come on, it’s alright, sit down. Take a deep breath.”

Harry places a hand on Louis’ shoulder, patting it softly. This can only mean that Harry also thinks Louis is an idiot.

“I’m fine, Harry, really. Just feel a bit of an ass, is all,” Louis laughs breathily, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“I’d be pretty freaked out too. That guy came out of nowhere so fast.”

“Still, should’ve looked both ways. They don’t tell you that in primary school for nothing.” Louis chuckles.

“But it’s been awhile since primary school. We’re too busy thinking about classic literature to worry about basic safety precautions,” Harry replies, throwing his own laugh into the mix.

Louis laughs with him, and at least this time he sounds less out of his mind. He takes that deep breath Harry recommended and avoids Harry’s concerned gaze, opting instead to focus on some tree across the street. He feels Harry again remove his hand from his shoulder, and he wishes he wasn’t so damn  _ aware _ of how close they are. This isn’t the sort of scenario Louis was going for at  _ all _ .

Harry breaks the silence with a hesitant offer. “Want some sandwich? It’s turkey.”

Louis huffs and looks over at him with a small nod. “Sure, why not.”

Harry hands him one of his halves with a smile.

“So what are you doing here anyway?”

_ Hah. Shit. _

“Oh, uh, well… I was just gonna pop into the library to find a book, is all.”

That’ll do.

“Oh!” Harry beams. “Well, you came to the right place. What book are you looking for?”

“Nothing in particular. Leisure reading is all,” Louis says. Truthfully he hasn’t even picked up  _ Jane Eyre _ again, since he and Lottie had it out over Rochester. Every page makes him more frustrated than the last. At least now he feels marginally less menacing.

“But you didn’t have anything in mind?”

“Not really. Was just going to peruse. What were you up to in these parts?” Louis says, hoping this might help his case a bit more. Harry doesn’t have to know that Louis remembers bits of personal information like his occupation. It’s reasonable to expect Louis to have forgotten, right?

“Oh, I work here,” Harry chuckles. “Was just taking my lunch break before I get back to sorting through my stack of returns.”

“Right! Forgot you’d said you work at a library.”

“Yep, just me and the books. And a handful of elderly women, so. What’s not to like?” Harry grins.

“Guess I can guess who the sexy one in your office is, then,” Louis winks, and hopes that he can get away with being a tad cheeky. If not, he can blame on it on his near-death hysteria, right?

Harry laughs, to Louis’ great delight.

“Not me, no. That’d be Marlene. You should hear her weekly scandals.”

Louis giggles before he can stop himself.

It goes quiet a moment while Louis finishes his half of Harry’s turkey sandwich, eyes on the pavement below.

Louis hums something to fill the empty space. Simultaneously, he hears Harry say, “Hey, I’m sorry by the way.” 

“What? Why?” Louis asks, poorly disguising his disbelief.

“For the other night. I didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“Oh you didn’t, it’s fine,” Louis lies.

“I mean...I did, though.”

Louis takes in the moment. He’s already made a royal fool of himself, so why not throw it all out there? At this point, Louis’ really got nothing else to lose.

“Harry, can I ask you something?”

Harry nods, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Are we friends?” Louis asks.

“‘Course we’re friends,” Harry mumbles as he chews.

“Then did I do something wrong? Or… I don’t know, Harry. You’re just always apologizing to me, and I’m worried I’ve made you feel like you have to? Or that I’ve made you uncomfortable in some way.”

Harry looks down, and something solemn overtakes his demeanor.

“Sorry, Harry. I know we’ve only just sort of met and hung out a few times. To me, that makes us friends. I just want to make sure that I didn’t… offend you? Or give you any reason to be uncomfortable.”

“No. No, you haven’t done anything. I’m sorry. I mean. I think I just…” Harry’s shoulders droop with every attempt at an explanation. “Well, Cam tells me I’m just in my head about things too much. And he’s probably right. I think too hard about how…friendships, relationships…work.” Harry shrugs.

They’re silent for a moment before Harry adds, “It makes me difficult to be friends with. Couldn’t expect you to know any of that, though.”

“Alright. Well, now I do,” Louis says. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“I suppose you do, then.” Harry says, and Louis can actually feel him withdrawing. Louis wants to crawl inside his brain and tell it whatever it’s telling him is  _ wrong _ . Instead, he watches as Harry finishes his lunch. He brushes his hands together, ridding them of any remaining morsels before looking up at Louis.

“Well, I better get back to work.”

That’s not what Louis was hoping for at  _ all _ . He thinks back to where this conversation went wrong, and wonders if it was damned from the very start. It seems that Harry genuinely thinks he’s too difficult for friends, but Louis wants so much to befriend him he forgot to check for moving traffic. It’s comical, the sheer panic that runs through Louis when Harry stands up to return to work.  

“Harry, can we start over?”

Harry looks down at him, and Louis feels naked with how intensely he stares straight into Louis’ eyes. “What do you mean?”

Louis stands up and answers before he can think too much about it. “I think I messed something up. I don’t know, Harry, I get that you’re in your head a lot, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing? I just think that you’re cool. And I think we could be really good mates. But we’ve got all this awkwardness that’s just sort of stuck, and I’d really like to start over.”

Harry’s stare is just as intense, but Louis feels awash with warmth when it softens with a smile. “Really? I mean, yeah. Sure. I’d like to be mates.” Harry pauses. “But, I mean. I’ll still be me. Awkward is part of the package, to be honest.”

“And that’s fine. I’d just. I’d really like for us to be friends.”

Harry nods, to Louis’ delight. He’s bewildered his own forwardness didn’t scare Harry off.

“I’d like that too. To be friends and to, um, start over.”

Louis can’t help the smile overtaking his face as he nods. “It’s a deal, then.”

“Great. I should actually get back to work though, so…”

Louis nods, much happier with this ending than the last.

Harry pauses, not yet even a step a way. He looks at Louis and asks, “Still need help finding that book?”

As if Louis hasn’t embarrassed himself enough, he becomes a human sunbeam in reply.

He follows Harry inside, and is actually taken aback by the sheer size of the place. He’s not proud of it, but he never really found a reason to step into this sort of place once he’d graduated. Even then, the school library had been enough for him.

“So… have a genre preference?”

“Not really picky, no,” Louis shrugs with a smile.

Harry grins. “Well then, I’ll just direct you to some of my personal favorites.”

To Louis’ shock, Harry grabs him by the hand and leads him toward the book stacks. He tries not to make his wonder apparent. He also tries to ignore the way it makes him feel fuller, heart beating hard and ready to burst. Harry seems to catch sight of what he’s done, cheeks growing pink before he quickly drops Louis’ hand.

As they walk past the checkout counter, Harry waves to the elderly woman behind it.

“Did you have a nice lunch, Harry?”

“Yeah, Marge, thanks for asking,” Harry smiles, dimples and all. Louis catches the older woman eyeing him just before Harry introduces them.

“Marge, this is Louis. He’s in that book club I told you about.”

“Oh, that’s lovely dear. Nice to meet you, Louis,” she says with an affectionate smile.

Another older woman comes from the back and Harry waves. “Judy! Did you just get in?”

“Yes, I did. Wanted to say hi outside, but you seemed a little preoccupied.” She throws a mischievous wink in, and Louis feels aloof with embarrassment.

“Judy, this is Louis. He’s a friend from book club. Came here looking for a book, believe it or not,” Harry says, feigning annoyance.

Judy giggles with a twinkle in her eye. “Of course he is, dear! Louis, it’s wonderful to meet you. I’m just relieved that Harry’s not been lying to me about having friends. Need to know our bookworm is seeing real people once in awhile.” She throws in another wink, and Louis can see now why Harry was so happy to see her.

“Nice to meet you too, Judy,” Louis replies.

“Well ladies, if you’ll excuse us. I have to help Louis here find a good book before I go back to my sorting.”

“There’s so much of it today, Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t get through more of it yesterday.” Marge seems truly burdened to leave work for Harry, and it only makes Harry seem that much more pleased.

“It’s not a problem at all, Marge. I’m happy to do it.”

They reach the back of the library before Harry turns to face Louis. “Sorry about them. Well, I’m not sorry. Not at all, actually. I love them. But I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No, of course not. They seem lovely,” Louis grins.

“They really, really are. Don’t know what I’d do without them, honestly,” Harry admits.

Before Louis knows it, Harry is pulling books off of the shelves. They seem thin, and it’s then that Louis notices that they’ve made their way to the poetry section.

“Poetry, then?” Louis asks, his voice small.

“Yes,” Harry whispers. Louis isn’t sure if he’s actually replied or if he’s just pleased to be with his favorites. “Oh, I probably should ask. You like poetry, right?”

Louis nods.

“So you’ve probably read some of the greats then? Whitman? Dickinson?”

Louis bites his bottom lip before shaking his head, and Harry’s eyes go wide.

“You’ve not read Whitman? Or Dickinson? Oh my god, you’re going home with books. Plural. Books.”

The concentrated tilt to Harry’s head as he searches for the right compilations of books is absolutely precious. His tongue peeks out as he focuses on finding one book in particular.

“So poetry’s your favorite, then?”

Harry nods. “Absolutely. I love it. I love books in general, of course. There’s little I’ll refuse to spend time reading, but there’s just something about a good poem.”

“What about it?” Louis inquires. He’s never seen Harry get so excited about anything before. He’d really like to only ever talk about things Harry likes if it means getting to see him like this.

“I don’t know, really. I mean, I guess there’s something beautiful about the fact that it has such a specific meaning to the poet, but anyone can find a way to relate to it. Like a good song, you know? You can make it your own.” Harry doesn’t wait for Louis to agree before he continues, “But also, when you find a poet that you particularly love… it’s like they just get you in a way no one else does. Opening a book always feels like a safe place, but when it’s a book written by someone who just… gets it, it’s comforting.”

Louis nods. “I totally get that. They say the right book feels like coming home.”

Harry looks at Louis with eyes so bright, he thinks he might have just seen the single most beautiful thing in the world.

Louis is blinded by it. He’s not sure how to react. He’s never seen Harry get genuinely excited about anything. Harry must notice because he quickly averts his eyes and visibly shakes himself out of his own trance.

“Sorry, is it okay that I’m giving you more than one? I mean, if you don’t like poetry that much we really don’t have to look here. I’m sure I can find you some other stuff you’d like to read. It’s not like you even asked—”

“Harry.” Louis interrupts. Harry looks up again, eyes earnest. Louis smiles warmly. “It’s fine. I promise. I like hearing about your favorites and I’d love to read them.”

Harry’s eyes soften, and that dimpled smile reappears.

“Great. Then here’s Whitman, dear Emily Dickinson, and of course, Bukowski.”

“Bukowski?” Louis almost squawks.

Harry laughs softly before putting his forefinger to his lips, reminding Louis to be quiet.

“Yes, Bukowski. I love Bukowski. Do you have a problem with the great Charles Bukowski?”

“No problem, really, I’m just surprised,” Louis says.

“Why surprised?” Harry asks, amused.

“Because, you’re all about love and peace and mercy and all that, but you enjoy the occasional gruff Bukowski poem?” He’s an  _ anomaly _ . 

Harry laughs. “I like optimism, sure. Doesn’t mean I want people with a different perspective to lie to me about it.”

Louis starts thumbing through the copies Harry’s handed to him. He hadn’t actually intended to do leisure reading outside of that novel he still has to finish, but Harry just might have convinced him to give these names a try.

Now that Harry has picked out some books for him, Louis fears he’ll have to leave soon. He’d really rather stay and watch Harry animatedly describe his favorite authors and see those bright eyes focused on finding titles he comes home to.

“So have you finished  _ Jane Eyre _ , then?” Harry asks.

“Not exactly, no.” 

“Then what do you want with leisure reading?” Harry asks. “Bored with Bronte? Is that it?”

“Yeah, Jane and I are having a hard time getting along. I’ll push through, but I think having some other options to escape to will be good.”

Harry nods. “I know what you mean. Cam makes fun of me all the time for having like six books started at once. I’ll leave them all scattered throughout the flat and just read whatever I’ve left around.”

Louis laughs half-heartedly. “No wonder Judy’s worried about your human interaction.”

Harry actually blushes. Louis doesn’t even know what to think about it other than…it’s lovely.

“Yeah, well. Judy’s no better than I am,” Harry argues.

Louis is overwhelmed. Something about this place and these books and this boy has him feeling completely helpless. He came here to be Harry’s friend, but he didn’t consider why that decision took so much resolve in the first place. Harry’s just so endearing, and he must know it because he’s found someone to marry him after all. 

Louis needs to wake up. He needs to wipe the warmth out of his cheeks and root this conversation in reality. Harry is lovely, but Harry is very much not available. 

“So Harry, how long have you and Cam been together?”

Harry’s blush only worsens. He averts his eyes, and Louis can’t help but notice the stark change from his first blush to the second. He’s emanating something like shame.

“Four years. He’s uh, my fiancé, actually.”

“Okay, that’s what I’d thought,” Louis says with a closed-mouth smile. He wishes he hadn’t asked, no matter how badly he needs to  keep himself in check.

Harry nods. “Yeah. Sorry, I mention him a lot.”

“No need to apologize for that. Just was wondering,” Louis says, maybe sounding slightly too chipper to seem natural. It doesn’t make sense for him to be annoyed, honestly. He brought it up himself. Louis can only think to blame it on the sour tone Liam had taken in referencing Cameron the other night. That’s probably all it is—Louis trusts Liam’s opinion.

“We should all hang out sometime.” Louis really wouldn’t like to see Cameron. He especially would not like to see him with Harry. He already regrets the suggestion and then he feels it sink, sitting lower in his body and mind the longer Harry stays silent. 

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea, to be honest.” Harry seems smaller. Like he’d really like to disappear. “I love him, obviously. He’s just… not really into hanging out in groups. Or with friends that aren’t his, I guess.”

“Well that’s…” Louis starts. He’s not sure how to finish though.

“I didn’t mean,” Harry starts, releasing a small huff. “I know that seems bad. I promise it’s not, like, this big thing though. I just avoid it because I’d rather not upset him.” Harry’s shrug tries for nonchalance, but it doesn’t quite ring true. 

Louis almost pushes his boundaries and cracks a joke. He’s good at making genuine concern seem playful. But Harry’s uncomfortable enough as it is, so he decides against exceeding his limits. They’re not there yet.

“I understand. That’s fine.” Louis smiles reassuringly, placing a tentative hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry smiles back, a  _ thank you _ in his lax shoulders, and exhales.

“I should probably let you get back to work,” Louis says, clapping a hand to Harry’s shoulder.

Harry sighs with a small nod. “Before you go though… maybe, do you wanna show me your favorite? I’m only reading two books right now, so I could use another.”

Louis looks for any trace of a joke, and grins from ear to ear when he finds Harry’s serious. “My favorite? You wanna know?”

Harry nods. Louis grabs Harry’s wrist, smile still bright and beaming, and pulls him in another direction. Louis realizes then that he has absolutely no idea where his favorite book is, but he won’t let this deter him, or make him let go of Harry’s arm.

They walk together for a minute more before Louis desists. “Harry, I don’t actually know where to find it.”

Harry laughs, loud and vibrant. Marge comes round the corner specifically to shush an unsuspecting guest. When she finds Harry, she grins. Harry tries to stop laughing, but all he can really manage is to make it a smaller, squeaking noise. Louis’ heart is swelling, and at first he thought it was out of sheer embarrassment, but now he thinks he might just be pleased to have made Harry’s cheeks that color from laughing so hard.

“Sorry. I made him laugh.”

“Silly boys,” she tuts with a smile still on her face.

“We’ll be quiet, Marge.” Harry’s still chuckling. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t seem sorry at all. It’s wonderful.

“Alright, so just tell me what we’re looking for then, and I’ll help you find it.”

“Don’t laugh, okay?”

“Why would I laugh?” Harry asks, openly confused. “I just completely geeked out about poetry over there, so I don’t have any right to laugh at you.”

“Well, it’s just not what a lot of people might expect from me.”

“You’re a lot of things I wouldn’t expect, Louis.”

They pause for a moment, but Louis barely notices, as he’s trying not to think too hard about that last statement.

“I’m so glad we’re friends,” Harry says, his eyes dancing. “Honestly, I am.”

And yes. Friends. Because Louis needs to be Harry’s  _ friend _ , and he should probably start by letting go of Harry’s hand.

“Me too, Harry.”

“So where to?” Harry reminds him, and Louis nods with certainty to the task at hand.

“Okay, show me Dickens.”

“Dickens?”

“Yes. Dickens.”

Louis almost expects another exchange, but instead Harry furrows his eyebrows. It looks like he’s scouring his own mind to find something, like his mum trying to remember where she left her keys.  Louis smiles fondly at the comparison.

“Got it!” Harry whispers, pulling Louis back into the present.

Louis follows Harry’s lead as he turns down another aisle of books and stops in front of a shelf. He spots Dickens’ name immediately and smiles. Louis lifts himself on his tiptoes to grab his favorite title.

“This one,” he grunts out, unable to quite grasp it. Harry, of course, has no such difficulty and pulls it out for him as Louis glowers.

“Gimme,” he says, taking the book from Harry.

Harry chuckles. “I thought it was for me, though?”

“I have to _present_ it to you, Harold. This book is important. It can’t just be _grabbed_ off the shelf all willy-nilly.”

Harry’s still laughing as he shakes his head. “Willy-nilly?”

“Yes, Harry. You’re treating one of my favorite works like any other willy-nilly title, and it’s unacceptable, alright?” Louis’ indignant, but he’s sure Harry can see right through it.

“Right, present it to me then. Have at it.”

“Harold Styles. I present to you, in the least willy-nilly fashion,  _ Hard Times _ by Charles Dickens. With beautiful, snarky prose, cartoonish characters, and a whole lot of social commentary disguised in outlandish satire.”

“You’re right, that is definitely the way a good book should be presented. I’ll never be willy-nilly with a book ever again,” Harry says, accepting the book offered him.

“Perfect. Now can we agree to never say willy-nilly again, please?”

Harry giggles again as he nods.

“So, no comment? Have you read Dickens?” Louis asks.

Harry shrugs. “I’ve read  _ Tale of Two Cities _ but I never got around to his other stuff.”

“So you’ve never read  _ Hard Times _ ? Honestly?” Louis asks. It’s his turn to be surprised.

Harry grins, shaking his head. “Nope, you’ve beat me there.”

“Oh my god, Harry. It’s great, honestly. One of the best.”

“I’ll take your word for it. And read it, of course.”

“I’d never forgive you if you didn’t,” Louis says, nonchalantly.

“Consider it done,” Harry says, brilliant smile ever-present. Louis has nearly forgotten what his face looks like without it.

They start walking to the checkout desk together, books in hand.

“Thanks for not laughing,” Louis says. “A lot of people assume that sort of thing is too intellectual for me, I guess.”

At this, Harry seems completely bewildered. “You’re extremely intelligent. Why on earth would anyone think that?”

Louis laughs uncomfortably, and gives a small shrug. “Dunno. I mean, I don’t really read as much as I used to. School made it not so fun anymore, I think. But Dickens is my go to for the ‘what’s your favorite’ question and everyone always seems surprised.”

“I’m not surprised at all, for the record,” Harry says, like it’s obvious.

“You’re not?”

“Not really. I mean, I think it makes sense. From what I’ve read of Dickens, he seems right up your alley. Like you said, snarky, but beautiful prose. He’s cynical—most of his work being about what’s wrong with society—but there’s this hopeful undertone to him. Just like you.”

Harry says it like it’s nothing, and Louis isn’t even sure why he suddenly feels exposed. He tries his best not to let Harry see.

“What have I said?” Harry asks, clearly noting Louis’ sudden change in demeanor.

“Nothing,” he dismisses, his voice small. “You’re right, though. Like, he’s realistic, but not so quick to assume that the awful bits can’t get better, and I just really love that. He gets it… for me, I guess.”

Harry nods like Louis’ words are clear as day, and Louis thinks Harry might get it, too.

They share a private smile before returning to the front of the library. Marge helps them check out their books and the pair of them leave the library together.

Louis is thinking about how he really should finish  _ Jane Eyre _ before he delves into his new collection when Harry stops suddenly beside him.

“Uh, Lou. I’m still. I have to go back to work.”

Louis laughs. “Oh my god, right. I forgot.”

“So did I,” Harry says, laughing. “Well that was stupid. I’ll just. I’ll see you later?”

Louis nods. “‘Course you will. We’re friends.”

Harry beams, walking backwards towards the library.

“Bye, Harry.”

Harry waves sheepishly before turning around and walking away.

“There’s a secret  _ wife _ in the  _ attic _ ?” Louis shouts into the phone.

Lottie better have a good explanation for this because there is absolutely  _ no _ redeeming Rochester now. Not so far as Louis’ concerned.

“Yes, Louis. He has a secret, clinically insane wife, hiding in his attic. One who seems to be incapable of loving Rochester the way he needs.”

“So fucking  _ what _ . In sickness and in health, Lottie. You know what I’m quoting? The fucking marriage vows they took. No wonder he’s so fucking shitty to Jane, the bastard is probably the reason she went insane in the  _ first _ place! But he somehow still manages to fall in love with Jane and then not fucking  _ tell her _ that there’s a  _ wife  _ in the  _ ATTIC _ .”

“You seem upset, Louis.”

“I  _ am _ upset, because Jane deserves so much better than this sod and I’m glad she’s run off.”

“Just keep reading, dumbass.” He can practically hear her rolling her eyes at the other end.

“Ugh. Fine. First, how are you? I need to put this book down before I strangle something.”

“I’m alright,” she sighs. “Just studying.”

“Right. Finals are coming up, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are. With a vengeance.”

Louis chuckles. “Sorry, love. Do you need a study break? We could meet for dinner?”

“Don’t you have your own work to do? I feel like I haven’t heard about an article you’re writing in eons.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because they haven’t been giving me any as of late.”

“Really? None?” Lottie asks. Bless her for seeming disappointed. Louis hasn’t felt the need to complain, but it’s nice that someone sees how deflating it is.

“Yeah, so I’ve had a lot of extra time on my hands. Even picked up some leisure reading from the library,” Louis says, casually.

“Leisure reading? Like reading that isn’t for book club?”

“Yep,” Louis says with a pop of the p.

“You read for  _ leisure _ now?”

“Don’t act so surprised, miss. I used to read all the time.”

“Yeah, but you complained about it the whole time.”

“Reading has always been relaxing for me! I just avoid works with characters that make me want to rip my own hair out!” Louis insists, high pitched and defensive.

Lottie laughs. “Well, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to my not so leisurely studying. I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Right. Call me if it gets to be too much, yeah?” Louis says, hoping she gets what he means.

“I will,” she replies quickly. “Bye, Lou!”

Louis hangs up the phone and glances at the stack of old notebooks he has beside him. He’d gathered them on a whim, thinking maybe he’d read something in them that would spark a renewed interest, or revive an old idea. He didn’t realize how much the tiny writing assignments they’d given him at  _ Modest Home and Gardens _ filled the void for him up until this point. He genuinely misses writing, and now that he can’t complain about a shitty column assignment, he’s wondered what it is he’d write about if given a chance. 

It would seem in the past, he’s opted for rubbish. It’s clear that he wanted his words to come across a certain way, but he was trying to hard. He’s sure it still meant something to him at the time, but all in all, it’s been about as inspiring as reading the year old Facebook posts that insist on coming up to mortify him. He knows that shouldn’t stop him from trying now, but all he sees when he closes his eyes are hallways of books, and reverent eyes, and  _ dimples _ . His eyes shoot open and tries to shake every trace of whatever the hell this is from his body. There has to be  _ something _ else he can write about. 

Just as Louis shuts his notebook, Niall emerges from their tiny hallway and joins him in the living room.

“Lou, what are you doing tonight?”

“Liam’s coming over, why?”

“Who the hell is Liam?” Niall asks. “You replacing me?”

“Never, Nialler. You’re too good to me, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Louis blows Niall a kiss and watches as Niall mimes catching it, and puts it in his imaginary breast pocket.

“Liam’s just a new friend. Why? Where you headed?”

“I’ve got a gig at Ed’s pub tonight. Wanna come?”

“Yeah! You can meet Liam! Is Zayn coming?”

Niall shakes his head. “Nah, he had shit to do tonight.”

Louis makes a displeased face and rolls his eyes. “Blech. Responsibility.” 

When Liam arrives he’s as pleased by the idea of music at the pub as Louis hoped he might be. He’s beginning to believe that he could say anything in the right pitch and Liam’s eyes would light up.

They make their way to the pub quickly, falling into easy conversation on the way. Mostly discussing each other’s days. Louis learns a lot about Starbucks politics and teases Liam when he gets passionate about the proper way to order a cappuccino. It’s fun, and by the time they make their way to the bar Louis feels lighter and more at ease than he has in a while. 

“So how long’s this place been here, then?” Liam asks, hoisting himself onto a high bar stool. 

“I dunno, a while. One of my best mates-slash-flatmate plays here all the time. The owner’s a bit of a musician himself. Could’ve made a name for himself in the industry to be honest, but decided he liked pubs better,” Louis says with a small shrug and sip from his pint, slurping the foam from the top.

Liam nods beside him, and they partake in their usual bouts of small talk. Louis teases Liam here and there, but they haven’t quite reached the point in their friendship where Louis can start harassing him the moment he’s sat down. He’s grown merciful with age. A few beers in and Louis can feel his cheeks getting warmer, and he notices it’s even less difficult to get Liam laughing than usual.

Niall takes the stage a while later, and Louis feels filled to the brim with pride. Liam is definitely tipsy, but it’s only made Louis all the more endeared. Life is pretty damn wonderful at the moment.

Liam seems simply at ease, listening to Niall play and occasionally elbowing Louis to make a comment about someone in the crowd. Some blonde looks particularly taken with Niall, Liam points out, and Louis takes note with a wink. If Niall doesn’t do it first, Louis will buy her a drink on his behalf. No one can ever say that he isn’t there for the people he loves.

When Niall is finished playing, he makes Liam’s acquaintance and then promptly disappears. Louis is happy to find him wooing the aforementioned blonde.

A new band with an enthusiastic following takes the stage. The crowd is animated, and the lights make the air around them feel like it’s glowing. “We should invite Harry!” Louis suggests to Liam, yelling over the crowd. Something about this run down pub makes Louis think of a Bukowski poem which means Harry  _ has _ to be here. 

“What?” Liam hollers.

Louis giggles at how loud Liam can make his voice before repeating himself. “We should invite Harry!”

Louis was sure Liam would offer an outcry of agreement. A “Hell yeah!” and a pat on the back.  Instead Liam frowns. When Louis shrugs, Liam’s answering smile is laced with pity.

“I don’t think he’ll come, Lou.” The bigness of Liam’s voice isn’t lost, but it isn’t so funny when it’s so dour.

“Well, maybe not. But we should try to invite him at least, right?”

“You can if you want. Just don’t be disappointed when he says no.”

“Why would I be disappointed?” Louis scoffs. “I just think it’d do him some good to enjoy our company!”

“Sure, Lou. Fine.” Liam almost sounds like he’s huffing. This isn’t the appropriate response. Louis’ still waiting on that “Hell yeah!” and the pat on his back.

“Want his number?”

Louis nods and hands Liam his phone to enter it in.

Before he knows it, the phone is ringing. Something in Louis’ gut starts bubbling. Anticipation? Nerves? Did he drink too much? In any case, the sensation feels out of place. It’s just Harry. Harry who should be here.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end of the line is most decidedly not Harry’s.

“Uh, hi. Is uh… is Harry there?”

“He’s not available. Who’s speaking?”

The voice is terse, and almost, well… angry. 

“Erm… it’s, my name is Louis.” 

“Where the fuck did you get this number?” 

Louis should probably answer the bloke’s question, but what once was fluttering has turned to churning in his stomach, and he thinks he gets it. This is why Harry is the way he is and this is why Liam had seemed so unsure of this decision. This may be why Liam is a lot of things. 

Louis wants to be sad, and really he’s devastated. But mostly he’s pissed off. He’s been quiet a second too long because Cameron barks into the phone again. 

“I don’t know who the fuck gave you this number — ”

“Well wouldn’t you like to fuckin know — ” Louis starts and is rudely interrupted by Liam stealing the phone with more force than was probably necessary.

“Hey, Cam? It’s Liam. I’m so sorry, I was just complaining to a friend of mine about how much I miss Haz. Haven’t seen him in so long.”

Whatever Cameron says to Liam must be harsh, because he actually winces.

“I know… Yeah… Yes, Cameron, I know. No, my friend is inebriated. I’ll delete the number. It won’t happen again. I wouldn’t want to bother Harry. Just tell him I miss him?”

Liam hangs up the phone, and though he’d only mentioned their state a moment ago, Louis feels about as sober as Liam looks. He wants to find a way to break the sullen, defeated silence between the two of them.

“What the fuck?” is all he can manage.

“I know.”

“What the actual  _ fuck _ ?”

“Trust me. I know.”

“Was that  _ really _ ?”

“Cameron, yeah.”

“Cameron the  _ fiancé _ ?”

Liam nods. Louis feels sick.

Louis has no idea what to say. He’s not even sure what to think. Why would Harry’s fiancé be that angry at a phone call? Louis  _ sees _ Cameron on a fairly regular basis, and he never would guess that  _ that’s _ how he takes his fiance’s phone calls. Louis hadn’t even gotten to the invitation. Cameron was only mad that someone was trying to contact Harry at all. What kind of fucked up situation is this?

“You look confused.”

“I _am_ confused, Liam. All I did was call him, why the fuck was he so angry?”

Liam shakes his head. “I tried to tell you, calling him isn’t a good idea. You should’ve heard him when I told him you were with me.”

“Uh. No. Liam, you told me that Harry would say no. You said nothing about a fiancé forbidding him from even receiving the invitation.”

“I told you to be prepared for disappointment.”

“I’m not disappointed right now, Liam, I’m fucking furious. And I don’t even know why. I only just met Harry, but nobody deserves to be fucking monitored like that.”

Liam is silent. He has his hands folded on top of the table, and it makes him look older. The enthusiastic puppy is long gone. This is a dog that’s seen things, and that dog is fucking sad. Louis never wants to see Liam sad ever again. It’s too much.

“So that’s why you and Harry always… you get so…”

Louis knows he’s not making any sense—not even in his own head. But Liam nods anyway.

“Wanna go for a walk?” 

Louis downs the rest of his drink in one go, then agrees. 

They step outside of the busy pub. The temperature’s dropped significantly since the sun’s disappeared, so Louis pulls the hood of his jumper over his head and hides his hands in his sleeves. He doesn’t even know what to say anymore, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He just takes it one step at a time, waiting for Liam to talk. 

When Liam does speak, it’s hesitant.  “Look, Louis, I want to tell you some things. But you can’t repeat a word of it to anyone—especially not Harry.”

Louis nods.

“Harry and I have been friends a long time. I grew up with him, I think I told you this. He’s been my best friend through all the really important shit. Harry’s also been with Cameron a long time. Just not as long as we’ve been friends.”

“So, what, Cameron feels threatened by you?” Louis cuts in, bewildered at the very idea. 

“Yeah.” Liam pauses, kicking a rock in front of him and stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “I thought it was just  _ me _ , Lou. Harry was just so happy and in love, so I was willing to take a step back for him. I was sure when Cameron saw how gone for him Harry was, that he’d warm up to me. But then… Harry just stopped seeing people all together. Literally he just sees Cameron, and the people he works with. And occasionally me, but we have to be sneaky about it.”

Louis’ becoming aware of how ridiculous his face probably looks. It’s all scrunched up, conveying something between confusion and disgust.

“But book club. Does Cameron know about book club?”

“I don’t know. My guess is probably not. Book club came out of fucking nowhere, Lou. But I’m so glad it did.”

“But I don’t get it. If Harry was so happy and in love then what the fuck happened? What changed?”

“That’s where I honestly have no clue. I took a step back, but Harry built the wall there. I try to talk to him about it, about how awful it is that Cameron won’t let him see me. He’s like my family. But Harry won’t budge. He’ll defend Cameron with his life.”

“But he’s not happy, though.”

“He thinks he is.”

“No he doesn’t. He apologizes all the time. When he realizes he’s having fun he looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

Liam nods. “I mean, you’re not wrong. But that’s just the new normal for Harry. Keeping Cameron happy makes Harry happy. And keeping Cameron happy is a full time job that doesn’t allow for much time off.”

“You weren’t kidding, then, were you. About Harry needing a friend.” He’s not really asking. More confirming. Trying to understand exactly what Liam had meant that night.

Liam nods. “Like I said, book club came out of fucking nowhere. I haven’t seen him make a decision for himself that didn’t involve Cameron for at  _ least _ three years. I can barely get him to hang out with me because of it. You were an even bigger surprise to be honest. That day we ran into you at the park, he seemed more comfortable with you than he’s even been with me recently.

“You guys just genuinely got on. And Harry hasn’t had that in so long. At this point, I’m the person he tries to see, but when he does we usually end up arguing about something. And I know it’s because I can’t mind my own business—but his business is mine. I love Harry so damn much, I can’t just leave him alone.”

Louis is nodding like it’s all nothing, when in reality, Liam’s words are shedding light on so many questions Louis’ had.

“I know I’ve just put a lot on you. I’m sorry about that. I’m just so worried for him, and you seem to genuinely enjoy each other’s company and I’ll do anything at this rate to just get him—“

“Liam, stop. It’s not too much. I’m glad I know. I’m not really sure  _ what _ I know to be honest. I just know that if Harry needs a friend, I’m happy to be that for him. I’m just not entirely sure how I can be… a good thing. Especially if I’m another someone that Harry keeps secret.”

“Yeah, steer clear of Cameron. Just. I don’t know. Let Harry be Harry. If I can’t have a conversation with him about anything besides how worried I am about him...someone has to be there to make him laugh.” Liam sighs, almost wistfully. “I wish you could’ve known the Harry I knew before. He was brilliant.”

“He’s still brilliant.”

“I know,” Liam smiles. “He just needs a nudge in the right direction. The rest of the world deserves to know his brilliance.”

Louis nods, and something stirs in his gut. It’s a certainty, a resolution of sorts. If he were drunker, he’d march to Harry’s building right this instant and knock on every door until he could punch Cameron square in the face. Instead, he walks steadily beside Liam, kicking pebbles back when Liam kicks them in his path. He’s not sure what he’s gotten himself into at this point. The only thing he knows for certain is that Harry deserves better. Maybe Louis can still be that for him in some way or another  — something better. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> As always kudos and comments mean the whole entire world to me. Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to let me know they're reading and enjoying so far. You're all absolute gems and I'm thankful for you. :)  
> Feel free to come say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com). I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> See you next time!


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. Sorry for the delay. Life got weird. 
> 
> Thank you [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) for your encouragement, and [Elena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah) for always helping to point me in the right direction. <3 
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: There is more detailed discussion and internal thought about Harry's relationship and the abuse he experiences in this chapter. Please be kind to yourselves if it gets to be too much

Café Milo is fairly empty when Harry arrives early for book club. He stands between two barstools waiting for his latte, while the baristas chat amicably behind the counter. There’s not a familiar face in sight. He listens to the low hum of the coffee grinder to his right, vaguely aware that he keeps glancing over his shoulder for one face in particular. 

He’s been wondering for days now what Louis might have to say about Bukowski or Dickinson or any poet, really. He’s talked himself in and out of asking Louis for his thoughts outright. He has to remind himself a few times that it’s possible Louis hasn’t had time to read any of it. People pick up leisure reading on a whim all the time only to find they don’t have that extra time they thought they did. It’s not a huge deal anyway. If Louis hasn’t read any of them, Harry’s still dying to tell him about  _ Hard Times _ . He’s read it twice now and wonders if he found Louis’ wavelength while reading. Is that weird? It might be weird.

It’s been awhile since Harry’s made a new friend. Before Cam, he never gave too much thought to how he interacted with others. He wondered at the time if all his friends had just grown used to his antics or if they just didn’t have the heart to tell him he’s too passionate — too much for the average person. Even now, Cam will always tell Harry when he’s lost him — if he’s gotten too excited about a book, or maybe overreacted about something. And he wonders sometimes, if that was always the case, why don’t any of his old friends speak to him anymore? 

All this to say, Harry doesn’t know exactly how to behave around Louis. He’s not sure whether he should even admit that he read  _ Hard Times _ twice, or if he should just say he loved it and leave it at that. 

When the barista hands Harry his drink, a finger taps his shoulder. Harry jumps a little and turns around to find Louis. He looks like he may be sorry to have scared Harry, but is amused nonetheless. 

“Hey.”

Harry’s smile comes easy. “Hi.” He awkwardly turns from the waist to thank the barista before she can get too far away.

“Got yourself some coffee?”

Harry nods. “Where’s Lottie?”

“She’s running late today. Not sure why, but I’m glad I caught you. Would’ve had to walk in there alone, wouldn’t I?” Louis says. “Can’t let any of those guys think I’m just another nerd in there.” 

Harry feels his cheeks warm. It would seem that Louis’ happy to see him, too, and the thought has Harry feeling elated. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” Harry grins.

They walk side by side to the door of the small conference room and choose seats next to Elaine, with the corner of the table between them. Louis rests half of his face in his hand, elbow setting on the table.

“So, I wanted to tell you that so far I think Dickinson is cute.”

“Cute?” Harry raises an eyebrow, trying and failing to hide his disdain for the word. 

“Yeah,” Louis shrugs defensively. “Her poems are like, tidbits. Like day to day stuff. I think it’s cute.”

Harry shakes his head. “Read them again, then come talk to me.”

“What?” Louis probes. “Cute is good! I liked them!”

The grin on Harry’s face grows steadily, counteracting the shaking of his head. “If you think she’s cute, then you didn’t understand.”

“Well, what do you like about her then?”

Harry hums, tossing his hair back with one hand and then toying with one of the curls resting on his shoulder. It’s nice of Louis to ask, and Harry can barely contain himself as he explains in earnest. 

“She lived in seclusion for a lot of her life, so I like that her poems are kind of like… observations about life and people from the perspective of someone that wasn’t always, like, totally in it. She says it like it is, and I think most of it is really relatable, or at least applicable. Like, when you were younger and asked for relationship advice from the friend who wasn’t dating anyone. Somehow, she’s all the wiser.”

“Are you trying to say that you need to get out more?”

Harry laughs. “I mean, maybe. I don’t know. She’s not cute though, she’s  _ very _ intelligent.”

“I mean, cute doesn’t mean it’s not all clever. I don’t mean...well, I don’t really know what I mean because I agree with you, I think. Her poems are short and to the point, and that point is usually a good one. Maybe I just meant that I think it’s cute that you like them.”

Louis looks down as he speaks, like a confession. Harry feels his own cheeks burning, but knows its nothing. It’s not like Louis really meant anything by that. People tell Harry he’s cute all the time. It’s no different than when Marge says it.

“I didn’t start Bukowski yet, but I’m going to soon.”

Harry smiles, dimples present, when Lottie rushes into the room.

“I didn’t miss anything, did I?” she asks as she picks the seat by Louis.

Louis shakes his head and asks Lottie about her day. Harry sits back and watches them slip into easy conversation, and feels like maybe he’s more like Emily Dickinson than he’s always thought. He makes note to try to share more this meeting, or ask more questions. Maybe he should just start with asking Lottie more questions or something. He feels very comfortable with her, like she’s someone he could say just about anything to and she wouldn’t bat an eye. Maybe that’s the condition of being a Tomlinson. Mischievous and intriguing, but kind. 

“Harry, how’s your day been?” Her big blue eyes look beyond Louis to meet Harry’s and he smiles, hoping he hadn’t been staring too long.

“S’fine, thanks. Just talking poetry with your brother,” he says.

“Oh, really? You’ve got my brother reading more poetry now, have you?”

Louis’ quick to interject. “Hey, now what is that tone for?”

“You’re just not usually into poetry, are you? I thought you liked short stories.” She raises her eyebrows at him, teasing.

Harry shrugs. “We exchanged some favorites last week, and I’m a sucker for a good poet, so.”

Harry watches as Louis and Lottie exchange looks. Lottie almost seems to be smirking and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s missing something. Has Lottie tried and failed to make Louis read poetry before? 

“Do you, uh, like…poetry?” he asks Lottie, his voice small.

Lottie beams. “Actually, yes, I do. I love it. It’s fairly recent though, I’ve not read much. Wordsworth inspired me.”

“Oh! Who’s your favorite, then? Or have you been strictly reading Wordsworth?”

“Oh no, I’ve branched out, at least a little. I seem to be stuck in the same sort of era though. Tennyson was a fast favorite, also Keats.”

“I  _ love _ Keats!” Harry proclaims.

The room fell silent moments ago, but Harry hasn’t felt it until now. Everyone’s arrived under his nose, and they all seem to have heard his proclamation and are looking at him, as though they expect him to continue. He glances at Nick Grimshaw looking eager as ever, fondness gleaming in his eyes.

Louis cuts in. “Looks like Harry’s after your job Grimmy. This is what you get for taking us off poets. I, for one, will be leaving for Harry’s poetry club,” he announces, pulling the group’s attention away from Harry for a brief moment. He’s eternally grateful. 

Even Nick is chuckling from his seat, “Well, while I’m all for a discussion of Keats led by Harry, I’m excited to talk about what everyone else has read first. Do you have any feelings about Bronte, Harry? I’d love for you to kick us off.” 

And just like that, everyone is looking at him again. A small part of Harry wants to give a bold answer. A bigger part of him wants to crawl under the table. 

“Oh, um, well.” Finding any words to stand on is difficult, especially being put on the spot. He feels a light tap to his foot, and looks to his left to find Louis smiling at him, reassuringly. Harry takes a deep breath before turning back to Grimshaw. “Would you just, um, come back to me, please.”

Nick nods at the request and turns his attention to the rest of the table.

“Alright, anyone want to volunteer to kick us off then? General thoughts to begin?”

Michael raises his hand first, and everyone looks to him, hoping for the best.

“I mean, I guess I can start with just… it was good? I liked it.”

Nick nods, and asks for him to elaborate.

“I don’t know. It was much different from the others. Obviously it was a novel, not poems. It was still weirdly self-indulgent, though.”

“What do you mean?” Nick prods.

“Just, certain bits really dragged on. Made me think of Wordsworth and how we talked about him droning on about himself. Jane was the same. Like the part where she runs away from Rochester, and is freezing to death. I didn’t care to read about her misery and paragraphs detailing her lung quality for an entire chapter. And there were parts all throughout the book where like, I care about Jane? But not that much? I don’t know.”

Elaine nods emphatically. “While I did like it, there were chunks that were very cumbersome.”

“Okay. Anyone disagree?”

“Not really,” Louis’ soft rasp chimes in. “I think they’re both right. Bronte is a brilliant writer, and it’s not to say that  _ Jane Eyre _ isn’t a good book, just that Bronte definitely could have used a more merciless editor.”

“Okay, so some likes and dislikes then. There were parts that seemed unnecessary, that we didn’t like. Any likes?”

“I liked Jane,” Lottie says, a small smile on her face. “I liked Jane a lot.”

Nick waves for her to go on.

“She was well mannered, and noble, and caring. You know, all the things a Victorian woman was expected to be, only she cared for herself. Of course, sometimes she still viewed herself as an inconvenience. But even though she says she’s plain and seems to bring herself down, I think it was important that Jane learned that she was still worth something. Worth being loved and respected.”

Harry smiles as Lottie speaks. He does love Jane. He identifies very much with her desire to live and love well.

“I don’t know if she ever really learned that though, if I’m honest,” Louis says. Harry’s not a fan of his sharp tone.

“Care to explain, Louis?”

“I just thought it was a little ridiculous that Jane still ended up with Rochester. She was smart enough to run, but not smart enough to stay away.”

Perrie raises both her arms, eager to agree. “Exactly.”

Everyone looks to Perrie. She sighs and gestures to Louis. “I agree with Louis. I just think that Jane cared a little too much about other people and not enough about herself. She played independent woman, but was absolutely dependent on the two men who treated her terribly.”

“I mean. Think of the era though, Perrie,” Lottie says. “It’s not like she could get a nine-to-five and buy her own estate. It didn’t work that way. I don’t think it was a matter of Jane being dependent on them—she  _ had _ to depend on one of them. Even so, she was still independent in her own way. She expressed her true opinions to both of them, regardless of the answers they wanted and expected from her.”

“Yeah, but what about learning that she’s worthy of love? I’m just not convinced that either of those men really loved her,” Perrie says, riddled with annoyance. 

“St John was a piece of shit that made her his trophy,” Lottie spits. “He thought it was love, but he was calling it divinity and convenience. Rochester didn’t love her perfectly, or even well to begin with, but he  _ did _ love her. And once his pride was squashed I think he learned what Jane was really worth.”

Harry feels a little claustrophobic from the heat coming off of the group. This topic clearly strikes a chord with them, and the tension makes Harry squirm in his seat. He can’t say he’s particularly fond of either of Jane’s prospects, but he never really gave it this much thought. He only wanted Jane to be happy and for love to prevail in the end. 

“After the way Rochester treated her though, he absolutely didn’t deserve to have her back,” Louis says through gritted teeth. Harry almost wants to laugh at how intense Louis’ gaze is.

“He wasn’t that bad, Louis.” Lottie rolls her eyes.

“He had a fucking wife in the attic!” Louis exclaims. “Are we not going to talk about that?” 

“Lou, we’ve been over this —”

“Yes, but you’re still  _ wrong _ , Lottie!”

“ _ Alright! _ ” Nick yells, exasperated. “It seems we’ve got a debate to sort out.”

The room falls silent, except for the quick tapping of Louis’ foot on the floor. He looks peeved.

“So, some think Jane was right to go back to Rochester, and others think she made a mistake. I’d like us to pick sides.” Nick gestures to both sides of the table and labels them, left in favor of Rochester, right opposed. Louis dramatically stands from his chair and swiftly moves to the opposite side of the table. Harry stays where he is, and feels Lottie’s hand on his shoulder as she moves to the chair on his right.

“Alright bookies, in your groups, I want you to build your cases together. In five minutes, we’ll regroup.”

“Come on Grimmy, this isn’t a lit class!” Louis complains.

“You think I care, Tomlinson? Discuss with your group.”

Louis rolls his eyes for the millionth time and fixes his fringe before returning to his group. Harry’s surprised that the club seems to have found themselves so evenly divided. He, Lottie and Elaine are in favor, while Louis, Michael, and Perrie are opposed. They seem to be discussing emphatically, Perrie and Louis both talking with their hands, riled up.

“Harry, what do you think?” Elaine asks.

Harry shakes his head, focusing. “About what?”

He finds Lottie and Elaine both smiling at him. Elaine pats his knee. “About Rochester, dear. What are your thoughts?”

“Oh, duh,” Harry laughs nervously. “Um. Well. I think I agree with Lottie on all points. I think that when Jane goes back to Rochester, she not only learns that she’s worthy of love, but that everyone is? And we all make mistakes, but like, Rochester really did want the best for her, which is why he was such an ass sometimes. But she also helped him see that he was an ass. They made each other better.”

“That’s beautiful, Harry,” Elaine coos and Harry smiles.

“Thanks, Elaine.”

The thing is, Harry identifies a lot with Jane. He won’t admit it, at least not aloud. But sometimes, Cam can be a regular Rochester. Always criticizing and correcting — Harry thinks it’s the writer in him. But as an avid reader and lover of stories, sometimes Harry can get carried away. He knows Cam doesn’t mean to be an ass, he’s just less patient. He reels Harry in mid story to tell him that no one cares so much as he does. It’s probably true, so Harry stays quiet. Sometimes, though, Harry wishes he could be more like Jane. He wishes he could speak his mind more. He used to. He’s just grown tired, he thinks. It’s not worth the argument anymore.

Harry stands his ground in smaller ways. He keeps his job at the library. He joined this book club. Cam is always telling Harry he doesn’t reach his full potential, that he wastes his time with fairy tales and things that don’t matter. But books matter to Harry, and the ladies at the library matter, and the quiet matters, and while Harry has tried explaining this to Cam to no avail, he at least stands his ground by staying. So what if his cheque isn’t that big? He makes his part of the rent. He does all the cooking and cleaning. He’s there for Cam at the end of rough days and he puts down his book when Cam asks him to. If the only real problem Cam has with Harry is his job, then Cam can get over it.

Harry’s gotten over everything else.

“Alright! Time’s up!” Nick calls from the head of the table. Harry turns his attention back to the discussion at hand. 

Grimshaw asks for their side of the table to speak first, and asked the others to please hold for a rebuttal. 

Lottie clears her throat, taking it upon herself to speak on their behalf. “So, I feel like it’s important to mention a few obvious things that I think my dear brother is forgetting.”

Harry sips his cooled latte as he listens. 

“First of all, Jane lived in an era where a woman could not truly get on in the world alone.”

“Dear God, Lottie, but the inheritance! She could have well taken care of herself!”

“Louis, shut the hell up and listen to me, it’s my  _ turn _ .”

“Alright, Louis. You’ll have your time, let your sister finish please,” Nick says, resigned.

Lottie hums pleasantly, victorious, and Louis gracefully sticks his tongue out at her. Harry giggles at it despite himself, earning a warm smile from Louis.

“Anyway. In other  _ obvious _ news, Rochester didn’t even  _ ask _ for Jane to come back. The power of true love and possibly hysteria drew Jane back to Rochester in his time of need. It was fate and destiny, not foolishness. Also, Rochester learned his lesson and was therefore worthy of love.”

“Fate and destiny, my arse.”

“Would you be  _ quiet _ , Tomlinson.” Nick snaps.

Louis sinks deeper into his chair, and Harry can’t help but picture a tiny Louis Tomlinson doing the same exact thing in primary school when called out by the teacher. He smiles just before he feels Elaine’s hand on his shoulder.

Harry swallows, looking across the table at the other group. He wonders if they can feel that he wants to say something, and that’s why the room has grown respectfully quiet. He lifts a hand, but decides he should just speak without asking first. 

“Well, erm. I was just saying that Jane really learns a lot about her self worth and that she makes Rochester better in a lot of ways. But like, I guess I sort of see why Lou, erm, Louis says that Rochester didn’t deserve her. But I think at the same time Jane didn’t think she was even worth what Rochester had to offer. And when she was with St John she realized she wanted, um, to be loved and that she was worth that. Being loved, I mean. Then she also sort of thought that Rochester was worth that too? Or like, at least, a second chance. The world didn’t have to give Jane a second chance, and Jane didn’t have to give Rochester one either. But, everyone is worthy of love. Even guys who lie about their wives in the attic.”

The room is quiet for a moment. That’s probably the most Harry has ever said in book club at one time, and he’s feeling a little relieved about it if he’s honest. He knows he rambles and stammers a bit, but nobody interrupted him and they all seem to really be processing what he’s said. It’s a nice change. 

“Good insight. Now the other side of our debate may begin their rebuttal.” Nick gestures dramatically to the other side of the table where Harry can almost feel Louis’ deep intake of breath before he releases all his opinions.

“Rochester is an asshat. And I’m sorry but nobody that relentlessly horrid deserves a second chance.”

Grimshaw laughs. “For as many words you had before your turn, I’m surprised this is the argument you’ve settled for, Louis.”

“To be honest, it’s as simple as that. Like, maybe that was Bronte’s point. Maybe Harry’s right and that the point is that Jane and Rochester both deserve love or whatever. But if Bronte really wanted to prove that to me she shouldn’t have made Rochester so fucking awful.”

“St John is so much worse though, Louis. Rochester challenges Jane, and St John was the one who wanted her to roll over and play good wife,” Lottie challenges.

“So? Rochester lied to her. He was rude to her, like always.” Louis’ words aren’t nearly as convincing, and it’s obvious that he knows as much. His argument seems more like blind hatred than actual insight.

Perrie scoots forward in her chair, drawing attention to herself, and interjects. “Look, I think what Louis is trying to say is that Rochester is awful to Jane. I’d go as far as to call it emotional abuse to be honest. That’s why I’ve never liked him. The moment they meet he’s asserting his dominance over her, consistently reminds her of her place even though he’s the one who initiates conversations with her as though they’re equal. He singles her out and asks her questions to learn her sincere opinion, but whenever she expresses it he takes it upon himself to correct her and put her back in her place. So like, in summary,  _ yeah _ , he’s a total asshat.” 

Perrie takes a deep finishing breath and leans back in her chair. Louis gestures wildly at her, assumedly in agreement. Harry feels Lottie repositioning herself, sitting up straighter before responding. 

“I can see where you’re coming from, but I don’t think that their discussions could really be called abuse. I think that Jane challenges Rochester to think differently, and so Rochester takes it upon himself to challenge her right back. They’re both very intelligent, but Rochester only wants to make her sharper. If you want to talk abuse, we can go back to the topic of St John to be honest. He’s the real asshat here.” 

Grimshaw laughs. “Here I thought we were having a real literary debate, when we’ve actually been arguing over who the biggest asshat is.” 

Harry’s not sure if Nick meant to break the tension, but he has, and Harry’s extremely grateful. He takes a deep breath as those around him laugh amongst themselves. After a few moments, Louis speaks up again. 

“Look, can I say something?”

The room waits for Nick to grant him his request. He doesn’t, but Louis continues anyway.

“The thing is. I like Jane. I’m extremely fond of Jane. I think she’s quick-witted and so smart, and she’s a little dramatic sometimes, but she’s also hilarious and she means well. She wants the best for those she loves, and I think she’s a really wonderful character. The reason I hate Rochester is because I think Jane deserves so much better. I’m not saying that St John wasn’t worse, I’m saying it sucks that Jane decided to pick the lesser of two evils rather than finding some third guy who shared her values, respected her as an individual and didn’t have a bloody secret wife in the attic.”

“Fair point, Louis. Very fair. Fairest thing you’ve said all day, to be honest.”

“Oh shut it, Grimmy.”

“Harry, what do you think? Even if Rochester deserves a second chance, do you think that Jane still may have been better off without him?”

“Um, well…” Harry is quiet. He sips his now lukewarm latte and glances up at Louis. Louis, for all the fury he felt on the topic earlier, is smiling at him now.

Harry pauses, taking his time to find the right example. “Sometimes, you have to be put in your place by the person you care about, yeah?” 

He checks in with the group, and feels the same tension he felt before, like everyone is compiling the best way to say they disagree. He tries again. “Like, they have to kind of tell you the things you don’t want to hear or you’ll never get any better. You’ll just carry on with all of your flaws.”

“I don’t know, Harry, I just think someone should be loved, flaws and all,” Louis says, “and Jane always put Rochester in his place in a way that was respectful but Rochester was so cruel to Jane. He scolded her for saying things that he would ask her to discuss in the first place.”

It’s not that Louis’ being cold. It’s not even that he’s harsh. Harry isn’t sure why his stomach suddenly feels constricted, like a rope is pulling it inwards at the middle.

“I mean, maybe, yeah,” Harry concedes, quietly.

Harry feels the rope grow tighter as Louis continues. “Just, nobody deserves to be treated like that, you know? Especially not someone as great as Jane. And nobody who treats people so carelessly deserves a second chance. At least, not in my opinion. If you love someone, you love them, you don’t bring them down.”

“What about loving someone for their flaws? Does that not apply to Rochester?” Lottie interrupts. Harry’s silently grateful for the interruption. Louis’ words suddenly sound too familiar. It conjures up memories of an argument gone awry, and Liam’s primary argument. “ _ Nobody deserves to be treated like that, Harry, much less you. _ ”

Louis shrugs. “There’s a difference between flaws and someone lacking basic human decency. Rochester is lacking in decency.”

“Do you think he was still lacking decency in the end, though?” Elaine asks.

“I mean, at that point, you’re probably right. But it’s sad if a fire that makes you lose everything, including a leg, is what it takes for you to get knocked down a peg.” Louis pauses then chuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Pun unintended.”

“He didn’t even have a peg, Louis. He lost his hand.” Lottie rolls her eyes.

“There is something to say for the lesson learned,” Michael speaks up. “Jane says in the end that they found perfect equality in their marriage. That Rochester did learn to respect her.”

“So he lived up to his second chance,” Louis scoffs. “Doesn’t mean Jane had any real reason to go back to him.”

This time the rope constricting his middle pulls just where it hurts. Everything inside tells him to stay quiet and take it. It would hurt too much to actually speak, but it would hurt more not to. 

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice, Louis.”

He feels several eyes on him again, but all he’s concerned about is the way Louis leans forward, peering straight into him. He would ordinarily feel naked and vulnerable, but there’s freedom in this. Freedom in having Louis’ full attention. 

“What do you mean?” Louis asks -- his voice softer than it has been their entire meeting. 

“I just mean that, like. Lottie says fate and destiny, and you say stupidity, but like. Jane really loved him, is the thing. And you can’t just… erase that. You can’t. No matter how much someone may give you reason to hate them. No matter what sort of things they’ve lied about or said to hurt you. Love is staying… and forgiving. Jane loved him, and even from far away she knew he needed her. That’s real, and maybe he didn’t deserve it. But Jane couldn’t just  _ stop caring _ .” Harry takes a deep breath. “S’not that easy, is all.”

Everyone is looking at him. Harry refuses to look up from the table. He shouldn’t have said anything at all, because now everything is uncomfortable. The imaginary rope around his stomach is impossibly tighter, and Harry wants to throw up.

His discomfort must be visible because he feels Elaine’s hand gently squeeze his shoulder, and Lottie places a hand on his knee. It’s too quiet for these gestures to go unnoticed. Harry hears Nick cough and announce that they’re running short on time, so perhaps they should move on to something else. The tension, having been indirectly acknowledged, sits uncomfortably in Harry’s gut.

Cam isn’t much better than a Rochester. Sometimes he can even be a bit of a St John. But Harry loves him. And love stays. It forgives. And he means those things. It’s just that Harry never realized before now that he’s been waiting for something to burn and take Cam down a notch.

It never occurred to Harry exactly how much he’s wanted that epiphany for Cam. How much he’d like an apology for once. Or even just a thanks. He’d really love for Cam to initiate something affectionate. He’s wanted to come home from a rough day and know that Cam will let  _ him _ vent, maybe let him put his head in Cam’s lap while he reads and forgets this life is his. He misses closeness, and kisses with no hidden intent, and waking up to Cam running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t really remember when it stopped. But just like Jane could hear Rochester’s voice in the wind, the way it stirred her, made her feel both distressed and relieved—like love and home were just around the corner...

Harry has been waiting for that, and it hasn’t come.

Instead Harry’s been met with criticism, argument, complaints. Things like the wedding Harry always dreamed of have become stupid and silly—those were Cam’s words. Even things as benign as his hair have become a topic for argument, no longer a discussion. He once purchased some nice shampoos to make it grow long, and Cam told him he was being an idiot for spending his money to maintain something Cam didn’t even like. He said missed the way Harry’s hair had swooped back, sitting statuesque on his head. The way it was when they met.

It wasn’t a big deal though, those things. Harry knew that Cam was only stating his opinion, and while he still gives him shit about his hair, he mostly understands that Harry would look silly with the hair he’d had when he was nineteen. As for the wedding, it is true that they don’t have the money for the extravagance Harry  wants. And that’s okay. He doesn’t need it. It’s about him and Cam. All they need is each other. Harry will be fine.

It’d still be nice though. Harry sort of imagines what Cam might sound like, were he to call for Harry in the wilderness. He imagines the way Cam used to sound, and the way it warmed his insides to be loved and needed and called after.

“Harry?”

The sound of his name makes him sit up straight without second thought. He sees Lottie smiling sympathetically -- for what, he doesn’t even know. Had he seemed upset?

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry shrugs it off, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes. “Fine. I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess.”

“Alright. Well I have to run, but you should walk home with Louis or something, alright?”

Harry didn’t even know that book club was over. But it is, and there’s a shiny new book sitting in front of him. Grimshaw’s already left, even. Perrie is talking animatedly with Michael, who seems to be failing at feigning interest. Louis’ still seated, thumbing through the new book. Lottie pats his head and waves before she’s out the door, calling out a farewell to her brother.

 

Louis keeps his eyes on his book, only looking up to wave goodbye to Lottie as she hurries out. He notices Harry hasn’t moved either. He almost seems to be spacing out. Louis knows that what they spoke about earlier wasn’t easy. And a big part of him worries that he overstepped or said something Harry wasn’t ready to hear. The other part of him just wants to make sure Harry knows that he’s on his side. That he cares. 

It’s that part of him that makes him decide to approach Harry across the room. 

“Hey. Will you walk with me? Lottie was in a hurry and I don’t like walking on me own.”

Harry sighs before he smiles hesitantly, and nods, accepting Louis’ hand to help him up.

Once they step outside, Louis welcomes the warmth from the sun, tilting his head back as he walks. They walk side by side in silence, as Louis thinks carefully of the right thing to say to start the conversation off. It was pretty obvious that their discussion in book club resonated with Harry in a way not everyone really understood. Louis is barely piecing it together with the pieces he has. He glances to his left and sees Harry soaking in the warmth, looking up at the trees swaying with the soft breeze. Louis fixes his fringe as they walk. Harry pushes his own hair back on his head, and squints up at the sun. He trips a little as he walks, but not enough for it to be really startling. It’s actually quite adorable.

Once they’ve crossed their first street, Harry decides to break the silence.

“Where was Lottie off to in such a hurry?”

Louis shrugs. “Dunno. Probably something school related. Final exams are coming, so I know she’s doing a lot at once right now.”

“Oh, okay.”

This walk feels reminiscent of one they had ages ago. When they spoke of Blake and the human abstract, but rather than the feeling of not knowing what to say, the silence feels purposeful. Like there’s something that Harry’s  _ decided _ not to say. And maybe Louis can work with that. 

“There’s also a boyfriend she likes to see sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

Louis laughs. “Well, yeah. Basically.”

They’re quiet again. Louis can hear a lawn mower in the distance, and he squints as they turn the corner, the sun now right in their line of sight. Harry bites at his lower lip, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how. 

“What?” Louis asks, curious. 

“Is there a boyfriend you like to see sometimes?” Harry asks, quickly followed by a nervous chuckle.

Louis’ smile takes up his whole face as he interrupts. “Cheeky, Styles. I didn’t know if you had it in you!”

Harry’s cheeks burn as he shakes his head. “Not cheeky. Just curious! You don’t tell me much, you know.”

“You don’t tell me much either, mate.” Louis smiles. “But no. There isn’t a boyfriend I like to see sometimes—or a girlfriend, for the record. I mostly see Lottie, Niall, Zayn, and actually, Liam these days.”

“Liam’s taken to you quite well, hasn’t he?” Harry grins.

“Yes, I quite like him as well. But uh,” Louis huffs a laugh, trying to conceal his embarrassment. “I’m just really curious. Is Liam gay?“

“Lou, if you’re considering dating my best mate, please prefer to see him always and not just sometimes.”

Louis giggles again, in spite of himself. “That’s not why I’m asking. Though it is no secret that Liam’s got a crush on me, I think he might be seeing someone. He’s always ditching me for an impromptu dinner date or summat. I’m just curious.”

“He’s bi, actually,” Harry smiles. “Had a girlfriend for most of secondary school, but when we lived together in uni, he brought home his fair share, and it was never exclusively one or the other. Think it took him a bit to embrace it though. M’proud of him.”

“Good for him,” Louis nods.

“Yep, you’re all good. You’re free to embrace the crush you have on him.”

Louis turns bright red and declares. “I do not!”

“Sure you don’t.”

He sees the way Harry’s eyes are sparkling and wonders how horribly embarrassed he looks now. Louis thought it was fairly obvious that he might be crushing on someone else. Crushing on someone much less attainable.

“No, I don’t think Payno’s my type to be honest. Probably just a friend crush,” Louis winks, hopefully keeping his poker face intact.

They keep walking, but the talking has stopped. In the quiet, Louis wonders exactly how obvious he is. Lottie probably sees it. But Lottie’s probably looking too much into it. It’s just a crush. Though, when Louis walked into the café earlier this afternoon, he’d realized its magnitude. He saw Harry, with a stupid stern look on his face, leaning his hip against the counter waiting for his coffee. Louis imagined for just a second what it might be like to sneak up on him and hug him from behind. How it might make Harry giggle and startle him. It had taken him off guard, just how much he wanted to hear the sound.

Then during book club, Harry had seemed so distressed. It hurt to know why. He could see his wheels turning, justifying, rationalizing. After his enlightening discussion with Liam, and the phone call, he could piece it all together fairly easily.

“Hey Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

Louis glances at his phone, tells Harry it’s nearly four-thirty. Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he keeps his gaze down as they walk. Louis tugs him gently by the wrist, hoping to help him avoid tripping. After a while the silence becomes a little too much, so Louis gently prods, “Haz?”

“I don’t really want to go home,” Harry says on a sigh.

Louis nods, moving his grip from Harry’s wrist to his hand, so they stop walking. “Want to come to mine? Or keep walking?”

“I’d like that,” Harry says, quick and slightly flustered. “Either, honestly. I just want to, um—” he stops.

Louis had pulled Harry closer than even he’d realized, and while Harry hasn’t actually moved from his spot, Louis sees him mentally take one step back.

_ Me too _ is what he wants to say. He’s not even sure what Harry might have said.

He imagines it was something to the effect of not wanting to be alone.

“Let’s go,” is what he says instead, Harry’s hand warm in his.

He knows he probably shouldn’t have grabbed it to begin with. Harry is engaged, and not at all available to do things like this with him. But Harry hasn’t retracted his hand, and Louis wonders if maybe it helps. If it’s grounding somehow, though Harry still seems to be drifting away.

It’s a little weird, walking together like this. Louis’ never felt the need to explicitly ask someone if something is okay before. He’s always had the liberty to touch his friends as he pleases and is a good read for when they’re uncomfortable. Harry, however, seems indifferent, even though Louis is almost certain that he isn’t.

He nearly asks, but at this point they’ve been holding hands so long that he’d rather not call attention to it. Once they make it to the front door, Louis lets Harry go and opens the door to the stairs.

When they’re inside, he tries for casual, offering him a seat and some wine. Harry selects a spot on the floor by the couch and politely declines the wine. Louis brazenly fills his glass nearly to the brim.

“So,” Louis starts, choosing to sit on the floor across from Harry.

“Your flat is nice,” Harry offers. It’s infuriating, the sincerity in his voice, while he still won’t actually look Louis in the eye.

“Thanks,” Louis shrugs. “Can I ask you something?”

Louis is nothing if not eager and sometimes abrupt. Harry still won’t look him in the eye, but he nods.

“We’re friends, right?”

Harry does look at him then, confused. “I mean, yeah. Of course we are, Lou. Thought we’d established that.”

“I know we did. I just… I really do want to ask you something but I don’t want you to feel like I’m being insensitive or, like, nosy. So. Tell me to shut up if you have to, okay?”

Harry nods, and Louis can’t remember why he was frustrated with Harry for avoiding his gaze before. Their eye contact is overwhelming him now.

“I don’t even really know what I want to ask you, except, like… are you okay?”

Harry’s eye twitches. It’s small, but it averts their eye contact, before he stares thoughtfully at the floor.

“I know that’s sort of a big question. Or vague, even depending on how you interpret it. You just don’t… well, Haz. You just don’t seem okay. And as your friend, I really want to make sure that you are.”

Harry chuckles the smallest bit. “M’fine, Lou.”

“Yeah, I know you’re fine.”

Harry looks up again, and Louis smiles. “I mean, you’re not totally fine, but I know you’re managing. You’ve been managing who knows how long now. I can just… see that something’s not fine.”

“You don’t know that, Lou.”

“I mean, you’re right. I don’t. But I don’t get it, how…” Louis pauses, collecting himself. “I don’t know, maybe I sound super crazy right now. But Harry, you’re brilliant. You have so much to offer but when you do… speak up in book club you seem almost… ashamed. And I’m trying to understand why when you’re so smart, and composed, and… intentional. You only say something if you mean it but somehow you still look sorry.”

“I’m just not always good in big groups,” Harry shrugs. “I’ve told you that before. Makes me nervous.” 

“I dunno if I buy that though, Harry. Not that I think you’d lie. You’re just…” Louis shakes his head, forging in another direction. “Today in book club, at one point you seemed so composed, and you kicked my arse in that debate at most points, but it felt like moments later you looked like you were going to throw up. Our group isn’t really  _ that _ big. You didn’t always seem nervous, really. But you also didn’t seem fine. So that’s why I’m asking. Are you okay?”

Harry and Louis have had a lot of uncomfortable silences in their time. This one takes the cake.

Louis sips his wine and drags a finger along the carpet, waiting for Harry to respond. Harry doesn’t do much of anything, eyes trained on the floor. Louis can tell, though, that he’s calculating. Whether that will add up to telling Louis the truth, or saying something to avoid the conversation, he isn’t sure.

Finally, it becomes all too much.

“Harry. If you’re not fine, but you really don’t want to talk about it...you can say that too. We’re friends, and I mostly just care that you’re okay. But if  _ I’m _ making you not okay, I’d like for you to say something.”

“I’m fine. Just…” he sighs. “I’m not good at words.”

“I highly doubt that. You just take longer to say them than the rest of us.” Louis smiles encouragingly. “You can tell me. Anything at all. Even if all you want to say is ‘leave me alone’, I’ll listen. Okay?”

Harry nods, and Louis watches as several thoughts seem to spin through Harry’s head at once. He looks dizzy, and scared, and Louis wants to take it all back, and he still wants to clock Cameron in the jaw, and he wants to take away anything and everything that ever made Harry sad. 

Louis stills when Harry opens his mouth to speak, meeting Louis’ eyes again. 

“You’re right, Louis. About me not being totally fine. Something isn’t fine.” He pauses again. “And I erm. I appreciate you asking. I just don’t think I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

“That’s fine,” Louis says. He stands up and pats Harry’s knee. “You sure you don’t want some wine? Or a beer? I won’t offer to get you one once we start playing FIFA.”

Harry smiles one of those dazzling ones that takes up his whole face. It’s slow to arrive, but Louis revels in the sparkle in Harry’s eye.

“If you insist,” he shrugs, happily.

 

The next day, Louis is surprised to find a text message from Harold—the brand new contact in his phone as of last night—waiting for him at his lunch break.

_ Hi _

Louis wonders if Harry had meant to write more but sent too soon, or if he genuinely begins conversations this way. Seeing as the text was sent thirty two minutes ago, Louis is forced to believe the latter.

A hello and a smiley face is what he settles on in reply. About a minute later, Louis’ phone vibrates on the table.

_ Having a good day? x _

Louis smiles, and types his reply quickly.

_ Oh, fantastic. Most of the writers are out of the office on a trip, so it’s blissfully quiet. _

There’s another brief moment before Louis checks his phone again, but Harry hasn’t replied. Louis finishes his lunch and walks back to his desk before Harry replies again.

_ Yeah, Cam is gone for the week on that trip. _

What a riveting conversationalist, that Harold. Louis chuckles as he writes.

_ A little lonely then, Styles?  _ ;)

It’s probably too cheeky, too flirty. Harry might be extremely uncomfortable and Louis might’ve ruined everything.

_ I mean, he’s only just left. I’m not totally hopeless on my own. _

Louis doesn’t want to admit he’s relieved. In fact, he’s too busy being annoyed at Harry’s texting habits to be relieved. Louis wouldn’t believe Harry even wants to talk to him were it not for the fact that he texted Louis first.

_ Never said you were, love. Just wanted to know if you fancied some company? _

He sees the dotted line in their iMessage chat instantly.

_ You don’t have to. I’ll be okay. x _

Louis shakes his head. That boy, honestly.

_ No trouble, Haz. I have a little bit of work to do, but you should come over. Bring a book. We can just hang out. Invite Liam if you want. xx _

Louis puts his phone down, determined to get some work done so he doesn’t have to bring much of anything home with him. He overestimates his own willpower by a lot when his phone vibrates moments later, and he can’t focus on anything until he checks it. He picks up his phone begrudgingly and sees two text messages from Harry.

_ Don’t know if Liam can hold still that long. :) x _

_ What time should I be there? _

Louis grins and gives Harry the time about 10 minutes after he’ll be home. He figures that will give him a chance to tidy up and such. If his smile is a little brighter the rest of the day, it’s not like anyone else notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> This chapter is one of the reasons I wanted to write this story in the first place so I really hope you enjoyed it. Feedback is much appreciated. Leave comments or kudos if you feel so inclined.
> 
> A few of you have told me you can relate to Harry's experience and your feedback means the world to me. While I reserve the right to tell Harry's (very fictional) story, I do hope you'll come talk to me if anything I've written seems insensitive. 
> 
> Here's my [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) if you need to talk or just wanna flail about larry with me in general. :P 
> 
> See you next time!


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo! :) 
> 
> Thank you again and again to [Elena](http://fookinloosah.tumblr.com) and [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) for your help and kind words and support. <3
> 
> It's a longer chapter than usual, so I hope you enjoy it! :)

It isn’t that Louis is nervous, exactly. At least he doesn’t think he his. For one, there’s nothing to be nervous  _ about _ . It’s just Harry. He’s coming over, and Louis is… cleaning. His nerves have never manifested this way before. He learned long ago in cases of nerves that a quick shot of something pairs well with his natural social instincts. Louis just can’t bring himself to make for the liquor cabinet. He isn’t in the habit of being nervous about anything he shouldn’t be nervous about.

Louis shakes his head at himself for the fourth time and continues scrubbing the dish in his hand. He curses himself for not doing the dishes the night before, but what does it matter? Even if he’d known Harry was coming, he wouldn’t have done any washing last night. Besides that, Harry’s already seen his flat once. He didn’t seem bothered before. Is there a quota for how many times you can see someone’s messy flat before you can judge them harshly? Or could he get away with it if his flat is immaculate next time? 

Maybe it’s not too late for that shot.

A knock on the door startles Louis from his dishes. He surveys the mess still strewn about his living room and sighs. It’s a good thing he doesn’t need to impress Harry anyway. He hears another soft knock and pushes back a grin. He can almost see Harry standing on the other side of that door, biting his lower lip, book in hand and brows furrowed. 

Louis quickly walks to the door and opens it to see Harry’s fist raised, ready to knock again. Harry pulls his fist back, pausing before lying it back at his side. Louis smiles widely, and Harry grins back, slowly but surely. 

Louis invites him in and watches as Harry looks to the wide selection of seating. Louis closes the door and turns around.

“You can sit anywhere,” he starts. He coughs a little. “If something’s in your way don’t be afraid to move it. Sorry it’s a little cluttered.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Louis finds himself struggling to keep upright. He needs to lean on something. He  _ really _ needs to play it cool, but clearly that’s just not happening. 

He doesn’t understand it—why it’s always like this with Harry. Every time they see each other it’s like they have to start again. Every interaction is a new dance that nobody ever bothers to teach them.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Louis asks, returning to the kitchen, placing a hand on his refrigerator door.

Harry’s finds a spot on the edge of the couch and sits cross-legged before he meets Louis’ eyes to nod.

“Great. Well I’m having wine,” Louis says, with more of an edge of hysteria than he’d meant to. “You’re welcome to that. Or water? Or any liquor you want to be honest, I just don’t have many mixers right now.”

“Wine’s fine, thanks,” Harry replies with a shy smile.

Louis pours a couple of glasses and moves toward the couch.

“Hope you like red,” he says, handing the glass off.

Harry hums and brings the glass to his mouth, sipping. He scrunches his nose up a little as he swallows and Louis laughs.

“It’s um, bitter,” he says.

Louis’ still laughing as he nods. “I can get you something else if you don’t like it.”

“No, no,” Harry shakes his head. “It’s not bad. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Louis smiles, taking another sip. “So what book did you bring with you?”

Harry picks it up, rubbing his thumb along the cover. Louis grins from ear to ear.

“You’re reading  _ Hard Times _ ?”

Harry’s eyes light up as he nods. He looks down at the book and blushes slightly before he replies, “I’m, uh, rereading actually.”

A deep warmth spreads through Louis’ chest.  Apparently he doesn’t function well around boys who like his favorite books. This may be the nerdiest spurt of emotions he has ever felt in his life. It takes all the effort Louis has not to jump up from his seat; his heart is still doing as much within the confines of his chest.

“ _ Rereading? _ ” he says, unable to control his grin.

Harry smiles back, the kind that brings his dimples out, and Louis’ heart is soaring.

“Harold,” he says, straightening his face as much as he’s able. He brings his legs up and turns so he’s facing Harry.

Harry giggles, placing the book between them. “Yes, Louis?”

“You owe me your official review,” Louis says, biting back a new grin.

“Review?”

“Yes. Clearly you liked it or you wouldn’t be rereading it. Unless you thought it was atrocious and you’re reading it again to see if a second go will change your mind.”

Harry barks a laugh and shakes his head. “No, no. I’m rereading because I loved it.”

Louis feels giddy. He wants to pump his fist, or jump for joy or anything. He wishes he could get his heart rate to calm down, or his mouth to stop betraying him as he gives Harry another manic grin. 

Nobody’s done this for him before. Not that Harry read it  _ for _ him. But most people that know Louis loves this book just shake their head, and say they don’t believe him or just say that they’ll take his word for it. But Harry  _ read _ it. He read it and he loved it. He loved it enough to read it  _ twice _ .

“So…” Louis prompts. He gestures vaguely towards Harry, and Harry laughs.

“So… I really like it. It’s a great story.”

Louis repeats his vague hand gesture from before. “And?”

Harry giggles. “And… erm, well. I mean, you were right about the cartoony characters. But I think my favorites were the kids. Like Cecelia, Tom… Louisa was probably my all-time favorite though.”

Louis sighs dramatically. “Louisa is the greatest, isn’t she?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, my heart broke for her a little. Or a lot.”

Louis finds himself nodding along. “Yeah, I definitely cried. I won’t even lie about it. First time I read it, I cried multiple times.”

“Really?” Harry smirks.

“Don’t be smug, Harold,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

“I just didn’t think you had it in you to be honest,” Harry admits. “I knew you could get frustrated with a book, but I didn’t think you were like… a softie? Maybe?”

“Why do you think I get frustrated in the first place?” Louis asks.

“I mean, that’s a good point I guess. You have to care a little to get frustrated, don’t you?” Harry shrugs.

“Definitely,” Louis chuckles. “I get a little too attached, if I’m honest. Maybe it clouds me judgment sometimes. But if I care about someone and I think they’re being mistreated, then sometimes I don’t really care about the other side of the coin.”

“Me too,” Harry says, softer than before. “I get really attached to characters.”

Louis nods, and replies, mimicking Harry’s softer tone, “It’s easy to. You can see inside their brain better than regular people.”

Harry runs a hand through his curls before taking another sip of his wine. “That’s so true. I wish I could read people the same way you can read characters.”

“It could be a little terrifying though. Like reading other people could be helpful, but if people could read  _ me _ that way, they might see something they weren’t meant to.” Louis hesitates, but continues, “Transparency is nice sometimes, but it doesn’t mean much if it’s with everyone, does it?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, looking just over Louis’ shoulder. He looks like he’s thinking very hard about something. “Maybe if it was just with people who were allowed to, then. Like, if you reach a certain point in your friendship or relationship or whatever, then they can, like, level up or something.”

Louis laughs, but thinks of how much he’d like that kind of leveling up right now.

“Sounds like a dystopian novel,” he says.

Harry hums, leaning back in his seat. Louis feels something change. He nearly asks if something’s wrong, but Harry speaks up first.  

“Hey, is it really okay that I’m here?”

His question is sort of sudden, but Louis could sort of feel him working up to asking it. It was the way he picked up the book and fiddled with it that had Louis wondering when Harry was going to panic. He’s like a doe sometimes, so easily spooked. Things will be going well, and even when Louis hasn’t done anything to warrant a jolt, it’s like Harry suddenly remembers his surroundings and has to remember if he’s safe. He’s also clumsy and cute as fuck, but Louis tries not to dwell on those similarities.

“Of course, mate. Why wouldn’t you be?” he asks, wondering when the wine in his glass got so low.

Harry fiddles with the pages of his book, flipping them a few at a time, and shrugs. “I mean, you have work to do. I don’t want to distract you.”

Louis smirks. “Is this you saying you’d rather be reading right now?”

Harry chuckles at that -- it seems to catch him by surprise. He looks up and meets Louis’ eyes. His own are warm and a little hesitant, while Louis’ smirk lessens to some small fond thing beyond his control.

“I was excited when you wanted to hang out,” Louis admits. “So I really don’t mind that you’re here and I don’t mind that I’m distracted. But if you’d just like some book time on my couch with your wine, then just say so.”

Harry pushes his curls back on top of his head and sighs. “You’re really nice.”

“What?” Louis asks. He heard him, but he may or may not just want to hear it again. Preferably with the exact same tone and expression.

“You’re really nice, I said,” Harry says. “I just really appreciate it.”

“I mean, it’s not hard.”

“No, but people make you feel like it is sometimes. Like sometimes even Liam makes me feel bad for not really wanting to talk. You never make me feel bad for that, and I really just… I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

Louis shrugs. “Of course. So you want book time?”

Harry nods, shy even after his display of honesty.

Louis smiles and moves to grab some of his articles. He was doing some research before writing a sample article for the editor but now he’s having second thoughts. He’s been on the bottom of the totem pole for so long that maybe he’s proven himself enough to waltz into the office with a piece and request to be considered. He knows that’s definitely not how it usually works, but writing again makes him feel useful. So what’s the harm in building a small portfolio—or practicing to make something that could actually belong in his portfolio?

They sit in silence for a while. Louis hears the turning of pages and notes that his wine glass is empty. He glances at Harry’s and sees he’s running low as well. So he sets his articles to the side on the coffee table and stands.

Harry is sitting with his knees not quite up to his chest, but enough to cradle the book between his thighs. He looks stern, eyes focused and lips puffed out. It’s probably the cutest thing Louis has ever seen in his life.

“Harry?” he says, just above a whisper.

Harry looks up, seemingly dazed, and Louis smiles.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Do you want any more wine?”

Harry stares for a moment, before registering what Louis’ asked him.

He smiles. “Yeah, if that’s alright.”

Louis smiles back, but Harry doesn’t notice, his eyes falling back to his place on the page.

He fills both of their glasses from the kitchen and leans on the island for a moment. The flat is quiet, and out the window Louis can see the sun setting. It’s all very peaceful. Louis usually does his best to disrupt this sort of setting. He isn’t one to sit in silence for too long. Even when it’s just him and Niall, Louis would almost always rather Niall pay him mind than the television. But somehow, Louis’ content to let Harry be with his book and fetch his wine. It’s odd, is all. It’s odd that this is so comfortable. Louis supposes it’s because  _ Harry _ is comfortable, and maybe that’s what makes all the difference.

There’s a small smile playing on Harry’s lips, likely because Dickens is fucking hilarious. Louis has never seen him so at ease. There’s always been something chaotic about Harry’s demeanor. Again, like a doe. Maybe Louis keeps making the comparison because he’s used to watching Harry listen for gunshots. Never truly safe or protected. He’s still clumsy and cute as fuck, but this time he doesn’t seem to have his ears perked from paranoia. 

Louis stands up straight and shakes his head. This is too much. All too much. Just because Harry is here doesn’t mean that Louis is allowed to think like that. 

He brings both wine glasses back to the couch and hands Harry his.

Harry smiles as he accepts it. “How do you feel about Stephen?”

Louis sits down and beams. “Love Stephen. Why?”

“I just really like him. First read was Louisa, but this time I’m really fond of Stephen.”

Louis leans back against the couch and drops his head back, still grinning. “I love when that happens. When you read a book again and it’s the same but different? You catch things you missed before.”

“Exactly. And it’s always just one line for me. Like I’ll catch one line that I didn’t the first time and it’ll open a totally different perspective.”

Louis nods, and watches as Harry flips through the book. He stops on a page and smiles. “Like this one. This is why I’ve been paying more attention to Stephen.”

He hands the book to Louis gingerly, his finger on the page, pointing at the quote he means. Louis tries to find what he could mean and looks at Harry. “You should read it.”

Harry shrugs a little, but he pulls the book back and reads aloud, “‘It is said that every life has its roses and thorns; there seemed, however, to have been a misadventure or mistake in Stephen’s case, whereby somebody else had become possessed of his roses, and he had become possessed of somebody else’s thorns in addition to his own.’”

Louis is quiet. He smiles when Harry looks up, tentatively.

“I love that Stephen still wants to be a good man,” Harry says. “Even though his life really sucks, he still wants to be good.”

“Yeah, I like that Rachael knows about his wife in the attic and that he doesn’t try to marry her without telling her his secret,” Louis says with a wink.

Harry laughs loudly.

Once his laughter subsides Louis continues, “I’ve been trying to get Lottie to read this book for ages. She liked  _ Jane Eyre _ so well, but like, this is what a real story about learning to love should be. You know? It’s so much better.”

“Lottie won’t read it?”

“Nah, before book club she didn’t read much. I’m glad she’s starting to enjoy it, but she probably won’t read Dickens unless Grimshaw asks her to.” Louis chuckles. “I think she’s just dead set against it because I love him so much. She thinks we have very different tastes.”

“I mean, you did take a shit on a book she enjoyed a lot,” Harry says.

Louis squawks. “Okay, no, I definitely didn’t take a shit on it. I liked it. I just didn’t like Rochester.” 

“But Rochester is like. The point,” Harry replies, through a few spare giggles. “Jane’s life is nothing until Rochester is there.”

“That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? Jane’s life might not have been interesting or like, fun. But Jane was. Jane deserved the best, and Rochester was different from her life before, but he wasn’t the best she could’ve had.”

Harry’s still laughing, and Louis’ not really joking, but he doesn’t really mind.

“I am serious, Harold.”

For a split second, Louis considers reaching out to give Harry a real reason to laugh. He wants to touch him and tickle him and just get that much closer. The heat rises to his face at the thought, and he tries to subtly shake it out. Luckily, Harry doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

“This just feels like you have real feelings for Jane,” Harry says, eyes delighted. “Like one of those conversations where we’re talking about your friend that’s dating someone, but you think you’d be better. You could treat them better.”

“What, you think I have a crush on Jane Eyre?” Louis laughs.

Harry nods, cheeks red, and dimpled from laughing.

Louis huffs defiantly but his eyes are dancing. Harry giggles so hard Louis wonders if he can breathe.

“What kind of guy do you think I am, Harry?”

Harry sighs, still chuckling. “You tell me. With your crush on Jane, and that crush on Liam, I’m just not sure what you’re looking for.”

Louis smirks. “You think you’re funny don’t you?”

Harry nods with sparkling eyes, and Louis finds himself clenching his fists to keep from poking Harry’s dimples. He shrugs dismissively, a playful smile still on his lips. “I suppose you are pretty funny then.”

The giggles start up again. Louis really can’t say he minds much.

“Someone’s a bit of a lightweight, aren’t we?” This time, he actually does reach out and poke right in the center of one of Harry’s dimples. It’s satisfying, if only because it makes Harry actually bring his free hand to Louis’ wrist and to remove Louis’ finger before letting go. 

Harry takes a deep breath, still gigging once every two or three breaths.

“M’not usually,” he eventually says. “It’s been a while though.”

“Red wine is a mysterious substance then, eh?”

Harry grins and nods.

They sit for a moment, enjoying the silence. If Louis thought it was strange before, being comfortable in this quiet, then he should think it stranger now. This time neither of them are distracted with books or articles. They’re just sitting on his couch. Harry reaches over and pokes Louis’ knee and Louis’ smile feels like it might take up his whole face, and he’s even trying to keep it back.

“Yes?”

“I like you,” Harry says.

He just says it. It’s the simplest thing. Louis tries not to think about how much he’s wanted Harry to say something like that.

He smiles instead, and pokes Harry’s knee the same way Harry did before.

The dimples are out again when he says, “Yes?”

“I like you too.”

They stay like that, just smiling at each other.. Louis smiles down at the book in Harry’s hands. And even though it’s far from the truth, it feels like they have everything on the table. Louis does like Harry. He likes him a whole hell of a lot, and Harry likes him too. Nevermind the fact that Louis has to consciously keep himself from staring at the red wine stain on Harry’s upper lip, and never ever mind how much he wants to kiss it.

“Thank you,” Louis says, quietly.

“For what?”

“Reading  _ Hard Times _ .”

Harry smiles. “Have you met me? It wasn’t hard.”

Louis’ whole heart wants to burst. In fact, it might if Harry doesn’t stop being the cutest human on this planet.

“Yeah, but like. No one ever does. I told you, most people don’t even believe me when I say it’s my favorite. So, like. Thank you. For taking it seriously and reading it and loving it even though I know you couldn’t help that part.”

Harry’s grin is a mile wide as he reaches out and places a hand on Louis’ knee.

At first Louis thinks he might have something to say, but when he looks up from Harry’s hand, he looks perfectly content, bringing the wine glass back to his lips and leaning against the back of the couch. Louis feels his cheeks go warm at the thought.

“I should be thanking you, you know.”

“For what?” Louis smiles.

“For introducing me to the book in the first place. I know I laughed at you before, but I’ll admit I might’ve shed a tear or two.”

Under normal circumstances Louis would’ve given Harry twice as much grief as Harry had given him. It seems that these circumstances are very different because Louis can’t stop his eyes from crinkling before he says, “ _ Now _ who’s a giant softie?”

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, I am. Can’t deny it, really.”

They’re quiet again, and it’s okay.

“Cam doesn’t ever read my favorites either.”

Louis almost doesn’t catch it. He hears the words, but barely catches that glint in Harry’s eye. The one that lets Louis know that this isn’t easy for Harry. Whatever this is.

“None of them? Just not a big reader?”

“Not really,” Harry shrugs. “I mean he used to. When we started dating he’d take whatever book I was reading and read it while he was with me. Then when we moved in together, he um, well, I’d finish a book and put it on his nightstand. But eventually the books piled up so high that I had to, um, stop.”

“Have you asked why?”

Harry brings his knees to his chest and takes another drink from his wine glass.

“Not really. Like, I made a point to ask him to read certain ones. That’s about as much effort as I’ve put toward resolving it. It just didn’t go well, so I stopped.”

“What do you mean it didn’t go well?”

Harry gets really quiet. It’s not so much that his volume decreases, it’s that he himself is decreasing. The already quiet air around them feels completely still.

“Harry?”

Harry hums, lifting his head.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, okay?”

Harry takes a deep breath and sighs. “I do though. I want to tell you.”

Louis is quiet, taking in Harry beside him. He doesn’t want to prod or say the wrong thing, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He places a hand on Harry’s foot and leans forward, waiting for him to continue.

Harry sets his glass down on the coffee table and folds his legs under him, so Louis moves his hand to Harry’s knee.

“Sometimes Cam just… he doesn’t quite… I don’t know.” Harry sighs. “I just. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I love Cam, but sometimes he just doesn’t think before he says things. He’s always been like that. He re-did his first ‘I love you’ to me like four times because he said it too early.” Harry pauses and smiles, seemingly fond of the memory. “But honestly, he just doesn’t have a real filter. And sometimes not having a filter means less than lovely things. So when I try to bring something up he doesn’t hesitate to tell me when I’m being stupid. Or like, just that I’m overreacting.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he nods and hopes Harry will just continue.

“And like, you know how I get. You’ve seen it. I just… I worry a lot about certain things, and sometimes I just feel like. Like I should always be sure that Cam cares. That’s the one person you’d think I’d never ever doubt in my life outside of, like, my immediate family. But when the books started piling up on his nightstand… I think that’s when it started. He used to say that he liked reading my favorite books because it was like seeing inside my head. And I really liked that he wanted to. When he stopped it made me feel like… like I wasn’t so important anymore. And like, I know that sounds so stupid. Cam told me just how stupid he thought it was when I asked him to read one. I tried to be honest with him and he told me I was overreacting and I know he was right but I really just wanted him to like, kiss me. Or just… anything really, besides tell me I shouldn’t be upset.”

Harry stops and plays with the ends of his hair. “Sorry. That was more than an answer to your question. I just. That’s why I haven’t asked again. Because I mean, I know he doesn’t want to. And I know it would hurt him to know that I might think that way. I don’t want to hurt him.”

_ But he hurt you, _ Louis doesn’t say. The aching in his chest makes him want to throw a fit. He’d rather anything in this world than let someone hurt Harry. Nobody deserves this.

“You don’t need to apologize. I am sorry he made you feel that way, though, Harry.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s my own fault anyway. I shouldn’t have read into it.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, love.”

Harry smiles, but it’s not a real one. It’s an apology.

“It’s all very silly sometimes, though. Like, I know he doesn’t mean to hurt me. I know every time he does something or says something or doesn’t say something—I know that he means well and that I’m overreacting. That’s why it feels like it’s my fault, you know?”

“It’s really not though. You can’t help how you feel.”

Harry shrugs. “I can help it a little bit. I can see what he’s saying and try harder not to make the same assumptions next time.”

“Yeah, but I mean. You’re engaged right?”

Harry nods.

“If he really wants to spend forever with you, shouldn’t he like, try a little harder to show you you matter? If you’ve told him you feel less important, then I just… maybe he should try harder too.”

Harry’s head rests on the side of the couch again, his curls smushed against his cheek. He doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Louis says, and Harry shakes his head against the couch.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. You’re nicer than Liam.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” Louis says with a quiet laugh.

“I mean it,” Harry says. “Liam’s like a puppy. But he’s got the protective streak of a Rottweiler.”

Louis laughs, a little louder. “Now that, I believe.”

“It’s true. This conversation never goes well with Liam. He means well, but the only real, like, advice he has for me is that I should leave him.”

Louis nods, listening.

“And like, he’s been around a long time. Liam knows me better than most people, and he knew me before Cam was ever part of the picture, so he thinks that means he knows exactly what I should do. But part of me thinks he’s not really thinking clearly about it. He’s so dead set on it that it’s not even a conversation anymore.”

Harry pauses. Louis goes still when he realizes his hand is still resting on Harry’s knee. He’s been absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb along his kneecap but Harry hasn’t seemed to mind much. His face becomes very serious as he sighs.

“Sometimes I think he might be right,” Harry whispers, “but not enough to really do it. Just… it hurts too much to think about, you know?”

Louis nods and tries his best to stay neutral. He’s worried if he reveals too much, Harry will stop.   

Harry takes a deep intake of breath, letting it out slow.

Louis doesn’t say anything, but he can see the way Harry’s eyes glisten.

“Hey, Harry?”

“Hm?”

“You wanna just read for a bit?”

Harry nods. He looks relieved.

Louis hands him the book from the space between them and stands. He stretches his limbs before walking with both empty wine glasses and puts them by his kitchen sink. He picks up his copy of  _ Into the Lighthouse _ from book club and brings it back to the couch.

“Have you started this yet?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not yet. I love Virginia Woolf though. I’m excited.”

“I don’t know much about her to be honest.”

“She’s good,” Harry shrugs. “At least  _ I _ think so.”

Louis smiles and turns his attention to page one.

Before long he glances at the clock, wondering if Niall was going to stop home before playing tonight. It doesn’t really look like it, seeing as it’s past seven and his show probably starts soon. He yawns and looks back to his book.

It’s dry to start, but he likes some the characters well enough already. Mr. Ramsay seems a twat, but he feels for that James kid. He’d want to go see a lighthouse too.

It’s silent for a long while, besides the sound of pages turning. Well, his own pages turning. Now that he thinks of it, he hasn’t heard Harry turn his page in a while. When he turns his head, he finds Harry has fallen asleep. His whole body is pressed to the side of the couch, knees still pulled up toward his chest, and his book rests, now shut, against his legs. Louis smiles and wonders if maybe he should wake him.

His phone buzzes from the couch before he can decide, so he picks it up and sees a couple text messages from Lottie. He opens them and sees her complaining about Peter again. He’s apparently frustrated with how busy she is, and Louis frowns, shaking his head. He wishes Peter would be more supportive, but he also wonders if the boy’s actually frustrated with Lottie or whether she’s working herself too hard again. He knows how she gets sometimes.

He texts her back a good brother response, reminding her to take care of herself and that she doesn’t have to find time for him if she doesn’t want to. She just shouldn’t leave him in the dark. He tacks on a sincere ‘love you’ and a series of emojis before hitting send.

Job well done. Now what to do about this darling boy on his couch? Louis decides that maybe it’d be best to let him rest. Cameron is out of town all week, so no harm done, really. He’ll never know. Louis tries not to think about the implication of his own thought process as he heads to his own bed.

When he wakes up in the morning, he finds a post-it note on his front door. It simply reads, “Thank you xx”

  
  


Harry comes over a lot that week. Louis had been worried he’d blown it by letting Harry sleep over. He’d thought that Harry might’ve woken with a big scare and a guilt complex to match. He hadn’t tried to text Harry after seeing the post-it. And while part of him had been scared that he wouldn’t see Harry again until next book club, he knew that he needed to give Harry the space to choose. If he wanted to see, Louis he’d ask.

And he had, that same day. Louis came home to a sight very similar to the one he’d seen before going to bed. Harry was already in the flat—Niall had let him in after an embarrassing phone call with Louis—and was sat on the end of the couch, with a book sat open against his legs. He beamed in Louis’ direction and Louis knew that he was in trouble.

Harry had come over last night too. Niall was there and instead of reading the three of them crowded around the TV for an old footie match they’d all seen before. Harry had been vivacious in a way Louis had never thought he’d see, and Louis’ still avoiding Niall because of the bemused expression he kept making at him. He knows what it looks like, and he knows he owes Niall more of an explanation than the one he gave on the phone Tuesday, but Niall should consider himself lucky he shared Harry at all. Not that Harry’s even his to share. He wouldn’t even be coming over regularly were it not for the MIA fiancé.

It’s all a mess, but Louis doesn’t really want to think about the mess when he can think about how well Harry and Niall got on or how Harry had pouted when Louis took Harry’s usual place on the couch. Then Louis remembers how much Harry likes Lottie and how he’d probably charm the pants off the rest of his family and he can’t help but think that Harry just  _ fits _ . He fits, and it’s everything Louis didn’t even know he wanted. It’s getting harder to remember that “it” isn’t really his. Or theirs. Or anything at all.

Louis pulls himself together and gathers various items from his desk. He doesn’t feel like he’s really achieved anything today but he’s made lunch plans with Zayn and he intends to keep them. On his way out the door, he pulls his phone out to send Zayn a quick confirmation text.

After his quick walk, he finally feels his phone buzz, but finds Harry’s name instead.

_ Can I come over tonight? x _

Louis smiles.

_ Of course! Niall will let you in if I’m not home yet. _

Arriving at the café, he pockets his phone. It’s beautiful out so Louis picks a table outside in the front, so Zayn can find him when he arrives. He leaves his phone out so he can see if Zayn tries to reach him. His phone buzzes again, but it’s Harry.

_ Sure you’re not sick of me yet? _

Oh that darling boy. What a wonderful idiot he is.

_ Impossible. :) x _

“What’s got your face all twisted up like that then?”

Louis looks up, breathless and grins.

“Nice to see you too, Zayn.”

Zayn takes a seat across from Louis and smirks. “Who you textin’?”

“Oh just a friend,” Louis chuckles.

Zayn smirks and Louis knows he’ll be asking later. For now, Louis is able to distract him with the line for food. He and Zayn go stand in line to order, and ask about each other’s day. Zayn seems distracted, throwing glances over his shoulder and fidgeting with the sleeves of his suit jacket.

“Something wrong, Z?” Louis asks, once they’ve placed their order.

Zayn shakes his head and chuckles, grabbing the number for their table and leading them back outside. “No, I just. Well, Lou I want you to meet someone.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “What kind of someone?”

“Just someone. Well, an important someone. My someone,” Zayn smiles shyly. “I’ve been um, seeing him for a few months now actually and I just really want you to meet him. I may have invited him to join us if that’s alright?”

Louis’ eyes widen in surprise but he grins. “Of course that’s alright. Who is he? Where’s he from? How’d you meet him? How soon will I know if he’s good enough for you?”

Zayn blushes, and when Louis expects him to look down, Zayn keeps his gaze just past Louis’ shoulder. His eyes go soft and squinted when he smiles, so Louis knows he must be here. Zayn waves and then drops his hand. 

Louis turns around, hoping to find the lad that’s got Zayn this way. He sees  _ Liam _ of all people across the way. Louis almost laughs. How great would it be if Zayn met Liam? They’d probably get along so well!

He tries to get Liam’s attention, but he already seems to be walking towards them - in fact, he’s approaching rather quickly. Then the unthinkable happens, and Liam walks right by Louis and straight to Zayn’s side and he  _ kisses _ him. Full on the  _ mouth _ .

He pulls away and Zayn smiles. “Liam, I want you to meet my best friend. This is Louis,” he gestures to the other side of the table.

Liam looks at him and his jaw drops a little.

Louis’ does too, to Liam’s credit. Though his dropped moments before when Liam kissed Zayn on the fucking  _ mouth _ .

“Liam?” he finally sputters out.

The looks they’re exchanging make it seem like Liam is his sworn enemy, not his new friend. He can tell they’ve worried Zayn from the way he keeps looking back and forth at their faces.

“Do you two… know each other?” Zayn asks. Neither Liam nor Louis speaks up, so Zayn asks again, more alarmed than before, “Am I, er, missing something?”

Liam shakes his head and takes a seat. He tugs Zayn’s arm to take the seat beside him. “You’re not missing anything, love. Louis and I are mates, actually. I just didn’t expect to see him. Caught me by surprise.”

“You’re mates?” Zayn asks, narrowing his eyes at Louis. “Since when do you have mates that aren’t me and Niall?”

“Well it’s recent,” Louis says with an embarrassed laugh, taking his seat from across them, “but I’ve been acquaintances with Liam long before we became mates.”

“True!” Liam says, beaming bright and somewhat back to his normal demeanor. “Louis used to come get coffee for his coworkers all the time at my Starbucks.”

Louis grins. “Liam was the bright spot of that horrible part of my day.”

Liam smiles, clearly pleased. “Was I really?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, I mean you were the only barista in the joint that offered to hold the door open for me.”

The energy coming from Zayn is weird, considering he’s just introduced two important people in his life to each other and they’ve already hit it off. Louis’ almost over the jolting experience of seeing his worlds collide that way so quickly, but Zayn looks like he’s about to burst. He’s restless, and Louis can tell he wants to stand up from the way he’s leaning forward, glancing back and forth at them, with his hands on both knees. Like he’s ready to abandon ship if necessary.

“Look, I’m just going to come out and ask,” Zayn says abruptly. “I really need you to be honest, okay?”

Louis and Liam glance at each other before bringing their attention back to Zayn, and nodding.

“Did you two sleep together?”

Louis makes some noise he didn’t expect to come out. Liam clearly wasn’t expecting this either because he spits out the water he’d been sipping. A little of it lands on Louis’ hand and he makes a loud displeased sound while he wipes it off with a handkerchief.

“No!” Louis quickly recovers, “not once. Not ever. Just mates.”

“Oh thank god,” Zayn sighs, covering his face with his hands.

Something horribly awkward sits between them. Naturally, Louis can’t help but laugh at the horror that passed through them only a second ago. Liam begins laughing as well much to Zayn’s dismay.

“Did you actually think that?” Louis asks through his chuckles.

“Well what was I supposed to think?”

“Well considering what  _ we’ve _ been doing, I’d hope not that,” Liam says, a new giggle blending with his mild dismay at the thought.

“Oh, god, please stop I don’t need to know anything about that,” Louis says, and Liam shakes his head.

“Grow up, Lou.”

“You two are like my brothers, I don’t want to think about that,” Louis says with exaggerated disgust.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I still don’t understand. You were acquaintances, you met at Starbucks. How’d you become friends?”

“Book club,” Louis says quickly, trying to shrug it off. If Liam weren’t here, Louis probably would’ve told Zayn the long story anyway of how he met Liam and then Harry and then Harry and Liam together, but as it stands, Louis has found himself more than willing to dismiss the topic.

“Book club?” Zayn asks, glancing at Liam. “When did you join that weird ass book club?”

Louis wants to voice his displeasure at the term ‘weird ass’ but figures it won’t help in dismissing the subject.

“I didn’t,” Liam corrects. “Harry, my best mate did.”

“Wait, who is Harry?”

“Harry’s from book club, Liam’s his friend, we’re all friends,” Louis says, shrugging again. He knows it’s too nonchalant, but he hopes it might just work as a topic dismissal.

“I’ve definitely told you about Harry. He’s the mate I’ve known literally my whole life, we have lunch plans with him next week, remember?”

“Oh  _ that _ Harry,” Zayn nods, and his eyes dart across the table to Louis. “So  _ you’re _ friends with Harry?”

Louis nods, looking for any opportunity to change the subject.

“Yeah, Harry and Louis get on so well,” Liam smiles. “It’s been great. Remember, I told you, Harry’s the one with the stupid finicky fiancé who doesn’t like me.”

Zayn’s eyes light with understanding. “Oh. Harry. And you get on with Harry, Lou?”

“Um, yeah,” Louis says, suddenly nervous. This is dangerous territory. He doesn’t want to say anything particularly questionable. So naturally, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m quite fond of him,” Louis admits.

Their food arrives, and Zayn apologizes to Liam for not ordering him anything. Liam shrugs and steals a carrot off of Zayn’s plate. It’s gross but also adorable. Louis’ very happy for them.

“You two are cute,” Louis teases. Grateful for the opportunity until Liam steals it from underneath him.

“I have to ask you, how’d you get Harry to come to yours?”

Louis’ eyes widen against his will. Liam doesn’t look suspicious, really. He just looks curious. Maybe a hint jealous?

“I can never get Harry to come to mine. You’ve seen it, he’ll come over and be out the door within the hour.” Liam shrugs, looking sad.

“Oh, well… I didn’t really ask him,” Louis shrugs.

“He asked you?” Liam asks, incredulous.

“Well, no. I did ask him. He just...” Louis takes a deep breath, “He just texted me earlier this week and said he was lonely. So I told him he could come to mine.”

Liam is staring, mouth agape. It really isn’t that big a deal. And maybe he really doesn’t want it to be. He wants it to be natural and normal and wonderful because it’s felt like all of those things. But he knows if someone had told him what he’d just told Liam about Harry, he’d also be shocked.

“He said that? That he’s lonely?”

“I mean, it was implied,” Louis shrugs.

“So you just. Invited him? And he said yes?”

“I mean, it’s Harry. He asked if I was sure like twelve times and then yeah, he said yes.”

Liam chuckles at that. “How’d he get that past Cam?”

Louis bites at his bottom lip. “Oh, um. Cameron’s out of town this week.”

Louis knows it sounds bad. Zayn’s giving him a look that’s somewhere between bemused and concerned. Liam looks relieved and worried. Louis doesn’t like any of it. Before Louis had to talk about it, it was scary enough. All this new fondness he has for Harry is scary. It’s just happened so fast. It was there the moment he met him, but this new… fluttering thing that happens just showed up with Harry at his doorstep. Harry is wonderful and he only wants him to be happy. Louis can’t say any of that though because then it’ll sound like he’s defending himself and there really isn’t anything  _ wrong _ with hanging out with Harry. It’s only questionable because Cameron doesn’t know about it, but Cameron doesn’t even know that Harry is in a book club.

Louis’ phone breaks the silence and he picks it up, assuming it’s Lottie. Instead he sees that Harry is trying to call him.

“What?” Zayn asks. “Everything okay?”

Louis looks up and licks his lips. “Um, yeah. It’s Harry.”

“So answer it,” Liam says.

Louis does.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Lou! Do you have lunch plans?”

“Oh, um actually…” Louis trails off, suddenly very self-conscious with Liam and Zayn watching him.

“Sorry, are you busy?” Harry asks. “I got off work really early today and I thought it would be fun to—“

“Yeah, no, I’m not busy,” Louis lies. Zayn smirks from across the table. “I’m just. Well I’m at lunch with Liam, actually.”

“Oh my god, really? I’ll join you. Where are you?”

“Hold on, H,” the nickname slips out before he puts the phone receiver at his shoulder.

“Harry got off early and wants to know if he can join us,” Louis says.

Liam laughs. “That’s great. Tell him yes!”

Louis brings the phone back to his ear, “Harry?”

“Hey, I don’t have to join you if you don’t want, it’s totally fine--”

Louis cuts him off with a laugh. “No, Harry, you’re fine. We’re at that café a few blocks from where I work.”

“Oh, perfect! I’ll be right there!”

Louis hangs up and sees Liam walking away.

“Where’s he off to?”

“Bathroom. He might order some food,” Zayn shrugs. “But, um, Lou. Who’s Harry?”

Louis meets Zayn’s eyes, and he doesn’t like what’s in them. He shrugs. “You know. He’s Harry. Liam’s best friend. My friend. He loves books more than most people. Not much to tell.”

“But really, though, Lou. You can tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Have you two...?”

“Oh, my god. No Zayn. No. That isn’t—“ Louis huffs, “It’s not like that. We’re just friends. Harry needs a friend right now and that’s all I am. I’m a friend.”

Zayn smiles, and Louis wants to smack the pity out of his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Zayn says, smirk turning to a sincere smile.

“It’s been a while, Zayn, but I can still read your bloody mind, so just stop with that. We’re just friends.”

“Lou!”

Louis looks just past Zayn and sees Harry jogging toward them. His curls are bouncing and he’s smiling and just generally everything wonderful in this world so Louis smiles and waves back.

“Hi!” he says when he’s close enough to walk. He pulls a chair from an empty table and sets it right beside Louis. “Who’s this?”

Louis looks away from Harry to see Zayn biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, this is Zayn.”

“I thought you were with Liam?” Harry’s eyebrows furrow as he takes the book in his lap and fiddles with the corners.

“I am. Liam’s inside. Zayn is my best mate, and actually, um—“

“I’m Liam’s boyfriend,” Zayn says, extending a hand across the table.

Harry’s eyes light up with glee. “Oh my god, it’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me!” Zayn mimics with a laugh. “Liam’s inside. He went to get some food I think.”

“Oh perfect, I’ll go get in line with him. Hold my book, Lou? I’ll be right back.”

Louis takes his book and watches as Harry stands up and walks into the café.

“So, Lou…” Zayn starts with that stupid smirk and those teasing eyes.

“It’s complicated, alright. I can’t talk about it right now, but it’s complicated.”

“Well I can see that,” Zayn says. “When did you plan to tell me you’re quite fond of a taken man?”

“Just shut up, please.”

“Really though, I thought this lunch was going to go much differently. I figured I’d be the smitten kitten and you’d be teasing me the whole way,” Zayn chuckles.

“It can still be like that. In fact, I’d much rather it be. Please, tell me Zayn, how did you meet Liam?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but probably knows that his time to tease and chide Louis is dwindling. “Remember that night you stood me up at one of Niall’s gigs?”

“Like you’d let me forget it,” Louis rolls his eyes.

Zayn laughs. “It was that night. You left me alone to my own devices, so I decided to chill at the bar until Niall was done, and saw Liam there, pouting.” Zayn pauses and smiles. “It turns out he’d been stood up by his best mate, too. And I told him I didn’t fancy the pout on his face, but I did rather fancy his eyes.”

“You disgust me. What kind of line is that?”

“Well, it worked. So Liam and I have been together since. We made it official like a week later. Just didn’t tell anyone because our best mates were too busy avoiding us, and then I got busy at work.”

Harry and Liam return then and set their number on the table before sitting down. Harry takes his book from Louis’ lap and puts it on the table. Patting it, fondly.

Louis laughs. “What was that?”

“What?”

“You patted your book,” Louis grins. “You literally just set it down and patted it.”

Harry blushes slightly. “I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

Harry dimples back at him and shakes his head before facing Zayn. “So Zayn, how did you and Liam meet?”

Zayn smiles. “Was literally just telling Louis this story.”

“Without me?” Liam pouts.

“You wanna tell it this time?” he asks, patting Liam’s knee.

Liam beams. “It was actually that night you stood me up, Haz.”

Louis smirks at that, and catches Zayn’s eye.

“I was alone at the bar and I was pouting because, well, you know. Who wants to be in a bar by themselves?”

“Sorry,” Harry interjects and Liam waves him off.

“I was sitting there and this beautiful man approaches me and asked me why I was on my own. I told him, and he laughed because his best mate stood him up too.”

“Guilty,” Louis says, chuckling.

Liam beams at that and glances back at Zayn who’s watching him tell the story. “So he sat with me and then told me he really didn’t fancy the pout on my face, but he liked my eyes.” Liam blushes, “And that was sort of it. We made it official like a week later.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Harry asks, wounded.

“You didn’t ask! I told you I had dates, or that I had dinner plans and you never asked.” Liam shrugs.

“It’s okay Harry, Zayn didn’t tell me either. Figures since they should really be thanking us.”

“Thanking us?” Harry asks.

“Because we both stood them up,” Louis laughs.

Harry’s eyes go wide as he realizes it and he throws his head back to laugh “Louis’ right. You’re welcome, Liam.”

Liam rolls his eyes.

“The dream team, and we hadn’t even met yet!”

Harry giggles, and Louis lets himself look as pleased as he is for a moment.

“So, Harry, what’s old Cameron up to these days?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “He’s not old, Liam. And he’s out of town this week, on a business trip for some seminar or something. He didn’t really tell me much.”

“Whole office is out for it, though. It’s been so nice and quiet, kind of wish the writers were gone all the time,” Louis says, chuckling.

“Wait, Louis, where do you work?”

“ _ Modest Home and Gardens _ ,” Louis replies. “Thought you knew that, Liam.”

Liam shakes his head. “No, I absolutely did not. So you know Cameron then?”

“I mean, I don’t really  _ know _ him. He’s a journalist. I’m an intern. I bring him his coffee sometimes and that’s the extent of our working relationship.”

“Harry, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugs. “S’not a huge deal. Just a weird coincidence.”

“Exactly! It’s mad! The way we’ve all sort of circled each other but didn’t meet until recently.”

“Fate or something,” Harry says quietly. Louis doesn’t miss the way Harry glances toward him; he also doesn’t miss that Zayn sees it.

“Harry, what do you do?” Zayn says, eating the remaining carrots off his plate.

Harry looks up from his lap and stammers a little before replying, “I work at the library, just down that way.”

“You’re a librarian?”

“I mean, not technically. I started as a volunteer back during uni, and when I told my supervisor that I might not be able to volunteer once I’d found a job, she offered me a sort of position. People might assume as much since I like, help people check out books and I’ve been known to help someone with research if they ask. I just don’t have a library science degree, so I’m not a real librarian.”

“Is it bad that I didn’t know that was a thing?” Louis interjects.

“No, not at all. Most people don’t. That was the goal for me, initially. I finished at uni with an English degree and I wanted to get my masters in library science. But Cam didn’t think it was a good idea, because the program I was interested in is further away. He’d just got the gig at  _ Modest _ and I didn’t really have the money to live on my own out there anyway.”

“Out where?”

“London,” Harry replies with a sad smile. “Not too far. But far enough that I couldn’t exactly commute there and back all the time.”

“So books, libraries, and all that. That’s what you do?” Zayn asks.

Harry nods. “Yep. All I ever wanted. Liam’s always said I would be good in customer service, and I always told him that I’d rather talk to people about books all day.”

“That is not at all surprising to me,” Louis chuckles.

“You’d be good at it, Lou. You should look into it.”

“I’d be good at library things? Are you joking?”

“No! You would. It’d be like getting people their coffee, but you’d get to give them something fulfilling instead!” Harry says, chuckling.

“Oh shut up, you,” Louis says, unable to add any venom to his words.

“What do you do, Zayn?”

“I’m a lawyer. Well, I will be pretty soon.”

“Oh damn,” Harry says, and Zayn laughs.

“Yep, passed all the tests so far, working on reading all the books. I’ve got about a year left.”

“And I couldn’t even get my ass to London,” Harry scoffs, but Zayn shakes his head.

“Circumstances, mate. You had your reasons. I didn’t have anything holding me back. Plus it was all available to me right here.” He shrugs, eyes soft.

There’s this nice feeling in Louis’ chest. He feels warm as he looks around the table at his friends. For the first time in a long time, Louis feels like he has those. Zayn and Niall sometimes felt like the kind of people obligated to love him—they’d been around this long. What they’re not obligated to do is get to know other people Louis finds important. Turns out Liam doesn’t count, but somehow he still does.

“So, I’ve got to get back to work soon,” Louis remembers. “But do you guys want to come over tonight?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, Lou and I had plans, but you should come.”

Louis smiles at Harry and then across the table at a bewildered Liam and amused Zayn.

“I think we’d love that,” Zayn replies.

 

Harry had been nervous if he’s honest with himself. It had been so long since he actually tried having friends. He’d had the occasional dinner party with Cam’s friends, but that’s different. It’s easy to be accommodating. It isn’t easy to put yourself out on a limb, to reach out and hope you’re accepted.

Later that night, Louis sits close to him, their legs touching. His cheeks are as red as the third glass of wine he’s holding. Harry can tell Louis is tipsy from the jittery quality of his fingers as he reaches for his fringe for the millionth time. Harry smiles and tunes back into the loud guitar across the room. Niall and Liam are playing a cover of Bohemian Rhapsody that has Zayn literally rolling on the floor he’s laughing so hard. Louis tries to fill in the high parts neither Liam or Niall can fill, but loses it in the middle each time.

Harry’s book sits on the other side of the room, and for the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel its absence. He doesn’t need it. He’s always felt that a book is the closest thing to being home, but his new friends have already taught him something. Home is comfort and consistency, but sometimes it’s new. Sometimes it’s in sitting close, and loud laughter and a guitar. But mostly, whatever it is, it’s where you belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, friends. :)  
> As always kudos and comments are the highlight of my life. <3  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com)!   
> See you next time!


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! :) 
> 
> First and foremost a sincere thank you to [Elena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah/) and [Jacky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackstylinson) for lending me their time, and careful edits. Also thanks to both of you for being so lovely and supportive every time I doubt myself or get ridiculously paranoid. You're both the very best. <3
> 
> Just a quick content warning. This chapter contains some more Heavy Realizations, so be prepared for that. Also, there are some boundaries pushed in this chapter. If you're concerned about relationship boundaries at all, PLEASE feel free to come [talk to me](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/ask) before reading. I will tell you whatever you need to know beforehand. <3  
> Finally, Jay also makes an appearance in this chapter. She is not a tagged character because she's only present at the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next. If this is something you're not comfortable with, I completely understand. Again, I'm happy to fill in any blanks for you. <3

It’s Friday and Harry can’t remember the last time he so dreaded a day. Everyone around him is clearly excited for the coming weekend, and Harry really can’t relate. He’s been fighting off a transparent pout all day. Besides, he thinks with a bittersweet swallow, Cam comes home tomorrow.

Cam comes home and that means tonight will likely be the last night he can spend with Louis. 

He actually frowns at the thought. The finality of it is what scares him. This shouldn’t be it. Not really. There’s no reason his friendship with Louis has to end as soon as Cam is home. He’s overwhelmed at the thought of how much time he’d give to Louis if he could. He can barely find spare time for Liam, let alone for someone who takes one hundred percent of his attention the moment he’s in the same room. 

He glances at the clock to find he’s only got a few minutes left. Louis is supposed to meet him here, and they’re going to the grocery store before heading to Louis’ flat for the evening. Louis had offered to give Harry a call when he was finished at the store, but Harry had insisted that he come along. He wanted to pester Louis a little about Bukowski, and he wasn’t sure how long they’d be alone tonight. This at least guaranteed him some time. Though not much if he doesn’t finish this stack of returns in about fifteen minutes. 

He hurries through it, even carelessly dropping a few titles in his haste. When he brings the cart back behind the desk, he can feel Marge’s eyes on him. He accidentally meets her gaze when he practically jogs back to the front to clean up his area. 

“What’s got you so rushed today, bookworm?” 

“Oh, nothing. Just excited for the weekend,” Harry lies. 

“Is your friend coming by today?” 

Harry hesitates, then nods. “Yeah, we’re hanging out when I’m off.” 

“I see,” she grins. 

Like clockwork, Louis rounds the corner. Harry doesn’t need to turn around to see he’s there. He can feel it. Marge’s growing smirk is also a pretty clear sign. He hears Louis tap the desk behind him, so he turns on cue and grins. 

“Hey.” 

“Why, hello handsome,” Louis greets. 

Harry feels his cheeks warm and his dimples must come out because Louis glances down at his cheek for a second. It’s crossed his mind before that Louis may be dangerous. There’s only one person who should have such an affect on him. But nothing so dangerous has ever felt so life-affirming.

 

The trip to the grocery store is interesting to say the least. Louis neglected to write a list, so when Harry asks him what he was planning to make, Louis looks comically frightened. 

“This is why you didn’t need to come. I have a  _ process _ .”

“Is your process coming to the shop and just… picking up whatever tickles your fancy?” 

“I mean, yeah. Pretty much,” Louis admits with a shrug. 

“Were you just gonna pick up a few frozen pizzas and crisps or something?” 

Louis nods sheepishly. “I  _ thought _ about making something but I got all intimidated because I’m positive you’re better at this than me so I thought I’d make a quick run and we’d call it good.” 

Harry shakes his head with a low laugh. “C’mere, Lou.” He grabs Louis’ hand and drags him back to the front of the store for a small cart. “If we’re here, we’re gonna do it right.” 

“Well this is just embarrassing,” Louis sighs dramatically, but he falls in step beside Harry, pushing the cart. 

Harry laughs. “It doesn’t have to be. I’ll teach you.” 

“What are we making, then?” 

“Lasagna sound okay?” 

“What, like complicated pasta cake? Why not regular pasta?” 

Harry barks a laugh. “It’s easier than you think. It’s time for you to branch out.” 

“I mean,  _ fine _ . But there’s no way it’ll be as good as me mum’s,” Louis grumbles. 

Harry drags him through the store for all the ingredients they need. He asks Louis in vain what he already has at his place, but he’s snooped the cupboards before and knows there’s not so much as a loaf of bread, let alone any of his favorite spices. Harry’s endeared every time Louis admits, however begrudgingly, that he has yet another ingredient missing from his collection. 

Eventually they gather everything they need for their dinner, and Harry asks if there was anything else Louis wanted to pick up while they were here. Louis nods, and so Harry lets him steer for a while. He takes easy steps beside him as they go through aisle after aisle. He watches Louis think very hard about which wine he’d like, standing with his feet far apart, arms crossed in front of him and brows furrowed in concentration. Harry wants to laugh, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt Louis’ thinking process. Besides that, he’s teased Louis just enough for one outing. 

Eventually they check out, splitting their bags to carry home. The sun is still high for this time of year—the days are just beginning to get longer. They walk in silence for a minute, but it’s comfortable. Harry takes a moment to realize how  _ good _ he feels. His headache hasn’t really subsided, but it doesn’t affect his overall mood. 

“Hey, Louis?” 

“Yeah?”

“I was just wondering.” Harry sways slightly as he walks. “Remember when we talked about like, characters and stuff? And how we get attached?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Who are your favorites? You’ve never said.” 

Louis smiles, shrugging. “Oh, I dunno. There’s a lot.” 

“Yeah, but do any come to mind straight away?” Harry presses. It’s silly, but he feels like Louis can always see right through him. And as comfortable as he is with Louis, he wants to know him more. He wants to know what makes him smile, and what it takes for him to give up on a book, and whether or not he gets along with his parents, and how he met Niall and Zayn and…  _ everything _ . But he’ll start here. 

“I mean…” Louis hesitates. “You know Harry Potter, right?” 

“Do I _know_ _Harry_ _Potter_?” Harry asks, bewildered. “Of fucking _course,_ I do. D’you think I live under a _rock_ or summat?” 

Louis laughs loud and hard, stopping his tracks a moment. Harry joins him. His reaction was dramatic yes, but also it was  _ warranted _ , dammit. 

“I don’t know what you think is so funny, Lewis,” Harry says between giggles of his own. “You asked me an offensive question.” 

Louis laughs again and stands up straighter, trying to collect himself. “God, okay, I know. Sorry. I thought maybe you just loved poetry too much to indulge in a little Harry Potter. You never talk about any massively popular books!” 

“No one is too good for Harry Potter. Don’t be stupid,” Harry teases. “But if your favorite is Harry I might kick your arse.” 

They resume walking while Louis shakes his head. “I mean, I think Harry’s fine. But no, he’s not the favorite that came to mind.”

“Alright, who then?” Harry asks. 

“I’m partial to Neville, to be honest.” 

“ _Neville?_ ” Harry starts. “ _Really?_ ”

“I mean, yeah. I don’t think he’s underestimated necessarily. But I do think he’s a little under appreciated. He gets the short end of the stick a lot. He could’ve been the bloody chosen one, but people give him so much shit. And he wasn’t near as whiny about his misfortunes as Harry was, even though he had it almost as bad. Granted, Voldemort wasn’t after him, but he  _ could have _ been.” 

Harry smiles. “You like an underdog then?” 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Louis shrugs, suddenly shy. “I mean I’m also partial to Draco, though.” 

“Oh god, really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for one of those.” 

“What do you mean one of  _ those _ ?” Louis laughs. 

“I mean, Draco is just so mean all the time. He’s a privileged little brat.” 

“I mean, yes. He is definitely those things. But there’s two sides to every coin, yeah? Draco’s also fiercely loyal to his family and brave in a dangerous way. I think he’s interesting.” 

“Do you find him relatable?” Harry asks, teasing. “Are you brave in a dangerous way?” 

Louis laughs. “I mean, I was pretty reckless in uni. But no… I think. Well, I mean, if Lottie was in trouble I know I’d go to ridiculous lengths to protect her. So, yeah. I think I understand Draco in a way.”

They make their way up the stairs to Louis’ flat. Louis sets his bags down to unlock the front door and let Harry in. 

“What about you?” Louis asks as he sets his bags on the kitchen countertop. 

“What about me?” 

“Any favorite characters? From Harry Potter or otherwise?” 

“I would literally give my life for Ginny Weasley,” Harry deadpans.

“I’m guessing you weren’t a fan of the movies, then?” Louis chuckles. His back is to Harry as he puts his personal items away in the cupboards. 

“Don’t even get me  _ started _ .” Harry laughs, meeting Louis over at the counter. He slots in beside him and leans back on the kitchen counter as Louis shuts the cupboard door. He hadn’t meant to stand so close, but now that he’s here, it’s fun watching Louis notice him. First he accidentally bumps Harry’s arm with his own, and quickly turns his head to see him. Harry watches as Louis goes from confused to what seems to be pleased as he turns and mimics Harry’s pose against the counter. 

Harry crosses his arms and turns his head to look at Louis once more. “Well, what d’you think?” 

Louis hums quizzically. 

“You ready to make some complicated pasta cake?” Harry says with a growing smirk. 

Louis groans dramatically. Harry just laughs and starts with what he thinks is a simple question. “Where do you keep your pots and pans?” 

This was the beginning of an adventure to say the least. It doesn’t take them too long to find the right equipment, though Harry teased Louis for every cupboard he had to check first. He has Louis fill the pot and flip on the stove top to bring the water to a boil for their lasagna noodles. Harry takes a seat on the floor with a bag of grapes he had forced Louis to buy. 

“Hey Haz, let me try to catch one.” Louis sits across the room on the kitchen floor and opens his mouth.

He misses not one, but twelve, and Harry cackles harder at each attempt.

“You’re not even  _ throwing _ it right anymore, how am I supposed to catch your renegade grapes?” 

“If you think my job’s so easy, why don’t you try it!” Harry says, sliding the bag across the floor. It barely makes it to the halfway point between them, so Harry laughs again, covering his face with his hands. 

After a few minutes, Harry feels prepared enough to try catching the grape in his mouth. Louis throws the first one much too hard, so Harry ducks and it bounces off the wall behind him. 

“Are you trying to  _ kill  _ me?!” 

Louis’ laughs are shallow and squeaky and Harry doesn’t even want to try again so he crawls over to Louis’ side. He leans against the wall behind them and grabs a grape out of the bag and pops it into his mouth. “This game is stupid.” 

“Yeah, so is cooking. Is our dinner ready yet?” 

Harry laughs, and then remembers they’d left the water to boil a while ago now and he doesn’t hear any bubbles at all. He stands suddenly and takes a look at the water, which is as still as it was twenty minutes ago. When he sees why, he has to brace himself on the counter he laughs so hard. 

“What? What happened?” 

“You didn’t even turn the burner  _ on _ , Louis.” 

They decide to order in shortly after that. 

  
  


Harry isn’t really feeling well. His head hurts and he aches from his shoulders down. He had felt the headache coming on at the grocery store earlier, but figured an Advil would make it go away. It helped marginally, but it didn’t help with the overall ickiness settling in his bones. He should probably go home, but it’s still early and he’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Cam gets home tomorrow morning, and once he’s home Harry won’t be able to come here whenever he feels like it.

This thing with Louis, whatever it is, is the best thing that’s happened in a long time. But also Liam, and Zayn, and Niall, they’re some of the best things that have happened to Harry too. He’s only spent a handful of hours with them all together, but he feels in his gut that they’d be there for life if he asked. He’s got friends for life. Friends that don’t have a list of requirements for him to remain in their good graces, but who would stick around just because they like him.

But none of that can really begin if Harry falls off the radar as soon as Cam comes home. He just knows, though, that Cam wouldn’t like them. Cam’s got a possessive streak a mile long. It used to be endearing, but now the thought of it is hollowing out a pit in Harry’s stomach. He wonders absently if he can change it, if he can show Cam that he’s still his even if Harry has his own set of friends.

He’s been staring at the same page of his book for too long, and he wonders if Louis has noticed that he isn’t feeling well. Louis has his hand on Harry’s knee, but he’s got his own head in a book. The one for book club is what he’s reading. Harry wonders what page he’s on.

Harry folds his legs in front of him, and at the sudden movement Louis gives a slight jolt. He rests his hand in his lap for only a few seconds before turning the page. Harry turns his body so he and Louis are facing the same way and places his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis glances down at him, mildly confused, and Harry can’t blame him. He’s just tired, and his body aches, and he could use a cuddle. This barely counts as a cuddle, but all the same — for once, he’s going to believe that what Cam doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Louis smiles, reaching his arm around Harry.

“This okay?” he whispers. Harry nods against his shoulder.

Definitely okay. More than okay.

“Have you finished this yet?” Louis asks, softly.

Harry shakes his head, still on Louis’ shoulder. “I’m a little further than you, but I haven’t finished.”

“Almost done though?”

“Not really,” Harry chuckles. “I’m still in the first part. I’ve been reading other things.”

“Better hurry up, book club is next week,” Louis teases. “Grimshaw would be very disappointed if his favorite student hasn’t read the material.”

“Oh shut up, he likes you best and you know it.”

Louis laughs, and Harry sort of loves how he can feel it from where he sits.

“There is no way he likes me best.” 

“I think he sees himself in you or something,” Harry laughs. “You two probably have more in common than you think.” 

“Fuck off. No way. He’s annoying and I’m brilliant,” Louis says, but Harry can sense he’s grinning. “Besides that, if Grimshaw likes me the best, you and Lottie are like gods to him. Literary gods. Lottie’s like your apprentice since you’ve got her reading Victorian poetry.”

“I had nothing to do with that, that was all her,” Harry chuckles. “Besides, it’s true, he does like you best. You know that one trouble making student in every class? And you can tell the professor likes them, especially when they start showing interest in the material? That’s you. You’re Grimmy’s trouble maker. He expected you to give him hell, but I think he thinks he got through to you or summat.”

“And all this time I thought the kid with the blue hair was the delinquent,” Louis laughs.

Harry laughs so hard he has to sit up. When he stops to catch his breath, he’s caught off guard by a deep cough. He sighs and looks over at Louis, whose bright features have turned darker, concerned.

“You feeling okay?”

Harry shrugs. “Feel kind of shitty, to be honest.”

Louis pouts. “You need to go home?”

“Probably,” Harry admits, biting his lower lip. “I don’t really want to.”

Louis’ lips quirk up at that. Harry wonders if he knows—if he’s thinking the same. That tonight is their last chance. Chance to what exactly, Harry doesn’t know. He just knows that it won’t be the same tomorrow.

“Then don’t,” Louis shrugs. “Stay here. Read with me. Want a blanket?”

Harry smiles and shakes his head, placing it back on Louis’ shoulder. Louis’ arm falls back in place around his shoulders in seconds and Harry has to keep himself from sighing loudly at how nice it is. Once upon a time, physical affection was Harry’s lifeblood, and he’s in serious danger of learning to need it again.

“Tell me when you’re ready to turn the page, and I’ll do it,” Harry mumbles, and Louis nods.

They stay like that for a while. Harry has no idea what time it is, but it feels late. Either it really is, or the illness creeping through his body is making his limbs feel the kind of heavy they feel at two in the morning.

“Haz?”

Harry hums in response.

“You want to turn the page, or do you want to go to bed?”

Harry doesn’t really know how to form words anymore, so he just hums again and hopes Louis knows what he means.

Louis laughs softly. “Did you walk here?”

Harry nods. He honestly could just lift his legs a little, burrow into Louis’ side and fall asleep like this. Louis’ soft, and he’s warm, and solid, and Harry’s so tired. He wants it just enough to believe it wouldn’t hurt Cam if he never found out.

“Want me to drive you home?”

Harry sighs, and nods again, though he really doesn’t want to. His brain clearly isn’t working properly and Louis is right. He should go home.

Louis grabs Harry’s book from off the coffee table and pets the top of Harry’s head. “Where’d you put your shoes?”

“I think they’re still by the door. Unless Niall put them in the closet.”

“Niall doesn’t put anything anywhere,” Louis laughs.

He grabs Harry’s shoes and brings them to him.

Harry chuckles. “I could’ve gotten them.”

Louis shakes his head with a smile. “It’s fine.”

In the car, Harry buckles in and apologizes, but Louis won’t accept it.

“You don’t look like you feel very good. I wasn’t about to make you walk.”

“Yeah, but it’s not far,” Harry argues.

“If it’s close enough to walk, it’s less trouble to drive. You’ll be home in five minutes,” Louis shrugs.

Louis doesn’t seem frustrated, or like he’d rather be anywhere else, really. Louis is so lovely. The loveliest, and Harry doesn’t know if it’s a fever or fondness that’s making him feel so warm.

“You’re lovely,” Harry says.

Louis pulls up to the curb by Harry’s flat and smiles. “Why, thank you. You’re lovely too.”

“M’gonna miss you,” Harry says, sadly.

Louis shrugs. “You’ll see me at book club, bookworm.”

Harry knows that’s not enough. From the look of him, Louis doesn’t think so either. He just won’t say anything, because he understands, and earlier this week, Harry would’ve really appreciated it. Now he wants Louis to say it’s bullshit. He wants Louis to tell him that Cam shouldn’t do this—keep them away from each other. Harry should be allowed to have friends, shouldn’t he?

“But,” Louis sighs, “Harry, maybe you should…”

Harry looks over at him from the passenger seat. “I know.”

“You should have friends. Friends are okay, you know?”

It’s silly how such a simple and true statement feels so much like a lie. Not even a lie, just a false promise. Like of course friends are okay, but there must be a catch somewhere in there. A price, or punishment. It shouldn’t be that way. It should be simple and easy and who knows, maybe it could be. Maybe just one attempt at bridging the gap could fix everything. And with new resolve, Harry looks up from his lap and into Louis’ eyes. 

“I’ll talk to him, Lou.” Harry doesn’t even know what he’ll say. He doesn’t know where to start, but maybe all he needs is that bridge. “I dunno. You should come over for dinner or something. Get to know Cam better.”

Louis is quiet for a long time. He smiles, but it has a twinge of sadness to it when he finally replies.

“I’d like that.” Louis pauses, and reaches across to squeeze Harry’s knee. “Text me with how it goes?”

Harry nods, leaning back in the chair. He undoes his seatbelt and thinks about getting out of the car, but that makes this real. He wants to believe he’ll talk to Cam and that Louis will come over and that everything will be great. Even with that small possibility, this goodbye hurts more than most. He hears Louis unbuckle and open his car door. Harry watches him walk around the front of the car to his side and he opens the door for him. 

“Need help getting inside?” 

Harry shakes his head, but accepts Louis’ hand and steps out of the car. He shuts the door and turns to face Louis. He considers saying his goodbyes, and walking away but he just needs to do something first. 

Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist, and feels relieved when Louis pull him closer and rubs his back. Harry turns his head onto Louis’ shoulder. Their faces are so close this way, and with a single nudge of his chin, Harry could kiss him—just a peck, something small. He’d tell himself it was a thank you, but really he just wants to.

Harry doesn’t know how long they stand like that. He’s so comfortable, he could fall asleep like this. Granted he knows that wouldn’t end well, and the image of him falling over makes him giggle a little into Louis’ neck. 

“What is it?” Louis asks, loosening his grip a little. 

Harry regrets letting his mind wander, because now he should probably loosen his own hold, or he’ll look too attached. “Sorry, nothing. Just had a funny thought.” 

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you inside?” 

Harry almost says he’s sure, but changes his mind. “You can walk me in.” 

Louis nods, and follows Harry to the door. He reaches for his keys, and flips through them until he finds the right one. He holds the door open behind him for Louis to follow and they step into the stairwell together. It’s quiet, but Harry’s just happy Louis is still there. 

Once they reach his level, they make their way down Harry’s hallway. Harry doesn’t like this new… separate-ness. He reaches for Louis’ hand just to be touching something and Louis squeezes it before letting go at Harry’s doorstep. They’re both stalling, and Harry’s relieved to know he’s not the only one who just doesn’t want to say goodbye. 

Unfortunately, Louis goes there first. “Alright, H. See you soon?” 

Harry nods. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” 

Louis nods and reaches for Harry’s shoulder. He brushes his hair off before giving it a friendly squeeze. 

Harry smiles and Louis let’s go and starts to walk away. 

Harry could leave it at that. He could watch Louis walk down the hallway and just… let it be. Instead, something stirs in him so quickly his head spins and he finds himself jogging halfway down the hall to catch him. 

“Lou,” Harry starts. Louis turns and stops when Harry meets him. “Just. I have to say thank you. Thank you for everything.” 

He doesn’t know if Louis understands. He looks hurt almost, and that’s the opposite of what Harry was going for here. He just needs Louis to know how much he means. How important he is. “I just think you’re wonderful. And you don’t give yourself enough credit for just how wonderful you are. So thank you, for just… being wonderful to me.” 

Louis looks stunned, which is better than hurt. 

“You’re wonderful too, okay? You’re worth the fight. Don’t forget that, please.” 

“I’ll see you, Lou. Soon.” 

Louis nods, but he doesn’t look like he believes him, and Harry just can’t bear it. So he leans just that tad bit closer, and kisses him softly on the cheek. He withdraws quickly, and feels his cheeks getting warmer, so he backs away. 

“See you later, Lou.” 

Harry walks backwards, keeping his eyes on Louis as he goes. When he makes it to his door he turns, but looks over his shoulder one last time to watch as Louis walks away. He enters his flat, shuts the door and leans against it for a moment. He takes a deep breath and holds it a few seconds before he tilts his head back and lets it go. 

 

That night, Harry doesn’t sleep well. His body hurts too much, or maybe it’s his head. He doesn’t have anything to help his newfound congestion, and all the shops are closed. And every time he closes his eyes, he sees a familiar pair of bright blue ones.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, there’s a steaming mug of tea on his bedside table, and a hand in his hair. He hums, too warm and sleepy to be alarmed by the unexpected presence. When the thought crosses his mind, he startles. 

Cam laughs from beside him. “Hey sleepy. Miss me?”

Harry sighs and rolls to place his head in Cam’s lap. He did miss him.

“Sit up, lazy bones. I thought you’d be up when I got home.”

“Not feeling well,” Harry says, voice rough from sleep and some lovely phlegm that’s decided to show up.

Cam lightly tugs at one of Harry’s curls. “I made you tea.”

“Sleep,” Harry groans, “then tea.”

“Tea, good news, then sleep,” Cam corrects, pulling at Harry’s shirt and willing him to sit up.

“Good news?”

He can feel Cam’s smirk when he pulls another of Harry’s curls.

“Can’t tell you ‘til you sit up and drink your tea.”

Harry groans, but he sits up. To Cam’s credit, he fluffs Harry’s pillow and sets it against the headboard for him before Harry grabs his tea. He takes a small sip and the hot liquid soothes his throat.

“What’s the news?”

“Aren’t you going to ask about my trip?”

“I mean, I was going to, but you were keen on telling me your news first.”

Cam sighs. “My trip was fantastic, thank you.”

Harry barely keeps from rolling his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“Harry, you’re bad at this.”

“Cam, I’m not awake enough to be good at this,” Harry says, swallowing another swig of tea.

Cam  _ actually _ rolls his eyes. “Okay fine, I’ll just tell you. So my trip was brilliant, I learned a lot and wrote a lot and finished that piece that’s been bugging me for months—“

“Which one?” Harry asks.

“Oh, just an essay I’ve been working on. Not for work, just personal.”

“Can I read it?”

“Maybe later, news first.”

Harry taps a finger against his mug, resting his head back.

“Anyway, so my boss read it, and was thoroughly impressed. And told me that there’s this… position, a new one, and he had me in mind.”

Harry smiles. “That’s great, Cam.”

“Isn’t it? I’m so excited, because first it’ll mean more trips like that one. Lots of seminars and some may even be in luxurious locations, like a work vacation!”

Harry tilts his head forward to see Cam’s face. It’s nice to see Cam so excited. He’s been so frustrated at work for so long, knowing that there’s nowhere to go but up and still staying stationary. He smiles and reaches for Cam’s hand. Cam takes it and squeezes once before letting go.

“I haven’t even told you the best part, yet.”

Harry sighs, but he’s not really annoyed anymore.

“He told me that when it’s said and done, and the position is there for the taking, he wants it to be mine. So the promotion’s practically set in stone. I get an office that isn’t that stupid cubicle, I get more interesting assignments to write, and who knows what else! They’re still developing details, so I mean, it’s sort of far off, but when it’s ready we can get settled in our new home!”

Cam is talking so fast, so animatedly, Harry almost misses it. His fogged brain makes it hard to keep up, but when Cam comes to a hard stop, Harry can’t keep himself from asking.

“Wait, are we moving?”

“Yes!”

Harry feels his stomach lurch, and he knows this has little to do with his current state. Cam is excited and he doesn’t want to take that away. But he’s been excluded from a decision that very much affects him. Did Cam even consider that Harry may not want to move? 

“Harry, why are you making that face? This is bloody fantastic!”

Harry scrunches his nose and sipping his tea. He sets the mug in his lap and looks at Cam. “No, it’s great. Really. But I mean, Cam, it’s still an  _ if _ . While it’s an  _ if _ , don’t you think we should think about it? What it means?”

“What’s there to think about? What would keep us here?” Cam shrugs, and bites at one of his nails.

“What about my job?”

“Harry, I don’t think you understand. This promotion is huge. Whenever this happens, you probably won’t even  _ need _ to work anymore.”

“But I love the library, Cam.”

Cam shrugs. “Whatever, then. Wherever we end up, there will be other libraries.”

“It’s not quite the same…” Harry says.

“So you’d blow off this awesome opportunity I have to stay at your stupid library?” Cam huffs, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Harry, I love you, but that’s ridiculous. And selfish.”

Harry’s heart drops into his stomach. “You didn’t even ask me how I’d feel about moving, Cam. Did you just assume I’d be all in?” He wishes his voice wasn’t still groggy and half-hoarse so he could speak with more conviction. “I’m happy that this could happen for you, but don’t you think we should talk about shit like that before you assume it’s happening?”

“I didn’t think we’d have to!” Cam’s voice rises. “I figured that my fiancé, someone who’s told me he wants to be with me forever, would be supportive!”

Harry sighs. He doesn’t want to fight.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like I don’t support you. Honestly, it’s great Cam.”

“Good,” Cam says, with childlike defiance.

He stands up to leave and takes Harry’s mug with him. He hadn’t even finished it. 

Harry inhales very deeply and lets it out slowly with a ten count. He lies back down to stare at the ceiling. His eyes fall shut a moment. He couldn’t sleep now if he tried. There’s a familiar ache in his chest, the same as every time Cam takes advantage of him. He recalls what Louis had said earlier this week, that Cam should be fighting to keep him. That he should try harder. Harry had wanted to laugh, because the idea of Cam fighting valiantly for his love was preposterous. But it didn’t seem so silly anymore. Not when fighting valiantly was just… being considerate. The only fighting Harry wants from Cam is reasonable. Compromise is reasonable. Communication and discussion and weighing their options is reasonable. It’s what couples do. They don’t waltz in and tell their sick fiancé to pack their bags.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Harry knows it wasn’t like  _ that _ . Cam’s allowed to be excited about an  _ if _ . But what if the next time it’s a  _ when _ ? Would Harry have the guts to tell Cam no?

“Haz?”

Harry opens his eyes and glances to the door. Cam has returned with a couple books in his hand. He places the mug on his bedside table, taking his seat on the other side of the bed again.

“We okay?”

Harry doesn’t answer straight away. “Yeah, Cam. We’re fine.”

“I know you don’t want to fight, and I don’t either. Just let me say something. Just ‘cause I want to understand.”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He knows Cam will go on anyway, even if asked not to.

“I know you love the library and your books and I get that, I do. But there are other libraries. Opportunities like the one they’re offering me aren’t everywhere. I just really hope you get that.”

Harry does get that. He bites his bottom lip and nods. He knows he’s silently agreeing only because he’s tired. The cold might be part of it, but he knows it goes deeper than that.

Cam smiles and picks up the books. “Hey, since you’re not feeling well, I figured we could take it easy today and read?”

Harry just wants to go back to sleep. He nods and picks up  _ To the Lighthouse  _ anyway _.  _ He forgot he’d left it on the counter last night.

“Did you like this one?” Cam says, holding up his copy of  _ Hard Times. _

Harry shakes his head quickly. “Don’t read that.”

Cam chuckles. “I’ll take that as a no?”

Harry meets Cam’s eyes, his own wide. Cam’s amused but Harry is frowning.

“I just, um, I haven’t finished it yet,” Harry lies. “I left a few other books over there that I liked. You should read one of those.”

It’s just a book. A book that Cam probably wouldn’t like anyway. No real harm done. 

He recalls what Louis had said just last night.  _ You’re allowed to have friends. _ And he is. He should be.

He sighs, relieved, when Cam shrugs and leaves  _ Hard Times  _ on the bed, and lifts his pillows back up against the headboard, flipping to his place in  _ To the Lighthouse _ .

He pulls his knees up, tenting the blanket over his legs and scans his eyes on the page, trying to remember where he left off. He’d been nodding off the night before so he remembers only pieces. He decides to just pick up where he left off before reading with Louis and takes a deep cleansing breath as he finds it. He feels his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he wishes Louis was here—holding the book open and reading it, occasionally stirring Harry with his gentle laugh. 

Harry shakes himself. He doesn’t want Cam to notice the burn in his cheeks, and he doesn’t want to make him jealous over nothing. When Cam steps out a moment later, probably to use the toilet or whatever else, Harry finally feels like he can relax. 

He brings his eyes back to his book and sighs, remembering then where he left off.

Harry likes this book. He especially likes Mrs. Ramsay and how Woolf allows her reader to see that she’s so much more than people think she is. Currently, Mrs. Ramsay sits, reading a poem, and Harry smiles softly. He knows that bliss. He relates to her gentle nature and the reverence she feels for her book, and the silent hope constant in her mind that she not be disturbed. 

Enter Mr. Ramsay and Harry’s stomach lurches. He hates the way he treats his wife. She deserves so much better. He especially doesn’t like to think too much about Mr. Ramsay’s inner monologues. Though despite them, Harry feels a sort of sympathy for them both. He begrudgingly understands the way Mr. Ramsay loves his wife and loves the reassurance only she can give him. It’s sad how much he needs it, when Mrs. Ramsay would be so much better off without him.

He pauses a moment. And as his eyes scan over the words again, he feels the pit in his stomach steadily growing, until he can’t ignore it anymore.

_ “For she felt that he was still looking at her, but that his look had changed. He wanted something—wanted the thing she always found it so difficult to give him; wanted her to tell him that she loved him. And that, no, she could not do.”  _

A soft gasp escapes Harry’s lips. This is the first he’s read of Mrs. Ramsay’s true feelings for her husband.  __  
  


_ “He found talking so much easier than she did. He could say things—she never could. So naturally it was always he that said the things, and then for some reason he would mind this suddenly, and would reproach her. A heartless woman he called her; she never told him that she loved him. But it was not so—it was not so. It was only that she never could say what she felt. Was there no crumb on his coat? Nothing she could do for him?”  _

His eyes well up then. He glances at the door, worried that Cam would choose this moment to return to their bedroom. Worried that he too, will want something from Harry that he’s just not sure he has left in him to give. 

_ “Getting up, she stood at the window with the reddish-brown stocking in her hands, partly to turn away from him, partly because she remembered how beautiful it often is—the sea at night. But she knew that she had turned his head as she turned; he was watching her. She knew that he was thinking, You are more beautiful than ever. And she felt herself very beautiful. Will you not tell me just for once that you love me?”  _

Harry wipes at his eyes. Cam does return then with his mug of tea. He’s topped it off with more hot water. He gently places it on the bedside table. 

_ “But she could not do it; she could not say it. Then, knowing that he was watching her, instead of saying anything she turned, holding her stocking, and looked at him. And as she looked at him she began to smile, for though she had not said a word, he knew, of course he knew, that she loved him. He could not deny it.” _

“Hey Haz?”

Cam’s words pull him from his troubling thoughts, but his eyes don’t leave the page. He hums in response, casually, though his heart feels like it might beat a hole through his chest.

“I love you, you know.”

Harry looks over at Cam, and notes the earnestness—leaning toward him with a hesitant smile in place. It hurts to see it, to physically see what Harry hasn’t allowed himself to see before. Cam hasn’t pulled back, but Harry can’t bring himself to lean in this time. Cam needs this, and very suddenly Harry doesn’t want to give it to him.

He leans forward just so their foreheads are touching, but dips his chin so Cam can’t close the distance.

He does bring himself to smile, just a small one, and Cam’s eyes search his face. Harry holds Cam’s hand, rubbing his thumb along the top.

“You too, Cam.”

Cam smiles, but Harry knows it wasn’t enough. Simply saying it required an effort it hasn’t before.

Still, he wonders if Cam understands the way that Harry loves him. He loves him in a way that’s so deep it often feels like a wound. It’s always been that way, but it’s occurring to him that maybe it shouldn’t have always been this close to pain. Maybe his breathlessness around Cam shouldn’t be comparable to suffocating. Maybe it should be better than that. Lighter. Softer. Like a raspy giggle in his ear.

Harry sighs, and finds he wants to cry. The corners of his eyes sting and he looks down, away from Cam, but it’s too late. Cam’s seen it anyway.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He puts a hand in Harry’s hair and Harry lets himself be comforted. He scoots closer to Cam’s side and wraps his arms around his middle, placing his head on his shoulder.

A couple tears escape. He can’t really stop it anymore. Cam already knows he’s upset, so he lets the tears fall where they may. Cam’s arm around his shoulder holds him firmly, his free hand rests on Harry’s thigh.

“Is this about the move?” he asks. “Because I promise you, Harry, we’ll be okay. You’ll find another library. I’ll be so much happier in a new job and I promise I’ll make it great for you too.”

Harry lets out a sob at that, but his breath catches, too congested to breathe as deeply as he’d like.

Cam rubs his shoulder and sighs. “We’ll be okay, Haz, I promise.”

“I’m just tired,” Harry says, voice unsteady. It isn’t about all that, but he’ll let Cam think so. “I’m so tired and I don’t feel well and I’m sorry.”

That’s the only truth he can spare, really.

“You can lay down, Haz. C’mere.” He turns so he can grip Harry with both arms. Harry turns as well, crossing his legs between them, and puts his forehead on Cam’s chest, just below his shoulder. He sniffles and a few more tears fall on his legs.

“Want to sleep?”

Harry nods, consequently rubbing his curls on Cam’s chest. Cam chuckles, but Harry doesn’t really think it’s funny. He feels pathetic and sad, and like the worst human on the planet. Still, as upset as he is, he lets Cam hold him when he lies down and almost immediately falls into a deep sleep.

It’s Wednesday when Harry realizes the fog hasn’t quite dissipated. His congestion has cleared up significantly, but he’s beginning to realize that the gray cloud fogging up his brain has just lifted to hang above his head. He knows it won’t leave until he addresses it. But for now, he’s content to return to how things were—before Cam’s trip and before their last fight and before everything.

He tries to be everything Cam needs. He gets out of bed first and he cooks him breakfast and sends him off to work with a kiss. He greets him the same way when he comes home and listens to him vent. He cooks him dinner and reads his book while Cam flips through channels impatiently. 

Harry even initiated some intimacy the other night—he tried to make it reminiscent of their first time, but it was more hurried than he’d meant it to be. It should feel normal. It would, if Harry didn’t know he was pretending. He’s beginning to wonder if he always has been. But that’s definitely the kind of thought Harry isn’t letting himself dwell on longer than a second. It’s… new. It’s new and it’s scary in a way Harry didn’t know it could be.

Before today, he had mostly been successful at keeping new and scary thoughts at bay. He liked to believe that it was thanks to his incredible self-control . All that shatters when Marge approaches him in the back room with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and an even gentler “Are you alright, love?”

Harry thinks he’s going to cry. Instead, he throws up into the nearest waste bin.

Marge holds his hair in one hand and rubs his back with the other. “Why don’t you go home and rest now, dear.”

He grabs a couple books from the shelf to take with him, and lets Marge kiss his cheek before he goes.

He doesn’t go home. He can’t go home. His bed smells like Cam and his couch isn’t as good for reading as Louis’ is and he couldn’t go to Louis’ without getting sick all over again anyway. Part of him feels like running away and disappearing. He’ll settle for a good spot to lose himself in a book. That’s when he remembers that Liam’s told him where his spare key is.

He heads to Liam’s flat and sighs, soaking in the sunlight on his face. The beginnings of summer are taking shape and Harry couldn’t be more relieved. His heavy bones could really use the sunshine.

Once he arrives at Liam’s flat he finds the key easily, and is unsurprised when Liam isn’t home. Nobody is, and he’s grateful. He puts his books on the couch and fixes himself a glass of water. He downs it quickly, glad to rinse out the rancid taste in his mouth, then refills it on the way back to Liam’s leather couch.

It’s worn leather, so it isn’t quite so cold to the touch as it used to be. Harry lies down on his side, facing the wall that separates the living room from the kitchen. He wonders if fresh air is really what he needs, fresh air and some more sunlight. He stays instead, wishing Liam was here. He thought he needed to be alone but now his insides are churning and it feels like his throat is burning because what he really needs is a long hug from someone who loves him. Really, truly loves him.

Harry stays on the couch the rest of the afternoon, drifting in and out of sleep. When Liam comes home Harry has no idea what time it is, but he can tell it’s still daytime from the natural light in the room. 

Liam stops in his tracks at the front door, surprised and maybe a little frightened. Harry hears his quick intake of breath become a drawn-out sigh. Harry wonders if it’s relief or pity. Probably both.

“Hi there,” Liam says.

“Hi,” says Harry, lying very still.

“You okay?”

Harry rolls over to look at him. He looks so concerned, and Harry realizes then that maybe everybody can see his gray cloud.

“Not really.”

Liam drops his things and quickly makes his way to the couch, motioning for Harry to sit up and budge over.

Harry does, and is greeted by Liam’s firm hold. He hugs him tightly and then steps back, leaving an arm around Harry’s shoulder. Harry leans into him, grateful for the closeness.

“What happened?” Liam asks. “If he hurt you I’ll kick his ass, Harry.”

Harry’s own cold, harsh laugh surprises him.

“He didn’t hit me, Liam.” Harry rolls his eyes, just for good measure.

Liam narrows his eyes, undeterred. “But did he hurt you?”

He knows what Liam’s thinking, and though he’s frustrated, it also hurts to know that Liam might be right. It’s hard to stay angry when Liam’s always wanted the best for Harry. They’ve always protected each other. And his frustration is quickly overpowered by his lingering helplessness.

“Liam, I don’t want to break up with him.”

Liam sighs and shakes his head. “I know you don’t.”

They’re silent for a moment. Liam squeezes Harry’s shoulder.

“Alright, Harry look. I’m going to call Zayn, and postpone our dinner plans. And when I come back, you’re going to tell me what’s happened.”

Harry shakes his head. “You don’t need to cancel your plans, Li.”

“You do realize this is the first time in ages you’ve shown up at my place without me bugging you about it first, right? This is important.”

“It’s fine, though.”

He wishes for a moment that he wasn’t so self-sacrificing. Truth is, he’s relieved. He just needs Liam to be there.

Liam shakes his head, smirking. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

When Liam returns he leaves his phone on the counter in the kitchen and sits on the floor. Harry feels awkward sitting above him on the couch, so he slides to the floor across from him.

“So what happened then? Or do you want to talk about something else?”

“I don’t know what happened.”

Liam lifts a brow, like he’s daring Harry to stick to that answer.

“Okay,” Harry sighs, “Just...”

“What is it?”

“I need you to please… just listen.” Harry pauses. “I don’t want you to tell me to just break up with him like you always do, okay?”

Liam glances up at him, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Haz.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, “Well just—”

“I hear you. I’ll  _ try _ to at least let you finish.”

Harry knows that may be the best solution, and the most he can ask for. He braces himself a moment, before launching into his explanation. 

“He wants us to move.”

“Move?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods.  “And like, it’s not in the near future or anything. But, he was promised this promotion eventually, for a position that doesn’t even exist yet. They’re like, working on it, or whatever, and his training for it will require a lot of travelling and then eventually they want him to just… move. They don’t even know where yet.”

“Do you want to move?”

Harry bites his lower lip, and shakes his head. “I really don’t, Li,” Harry says. It’s embarrassing, how emotional he is. He  _ feels _ selfish, for how much he doesn’t want this. “I don’t want to leave. And I’m just so  _ angry _ at him right now. I don’t want to feel this way, but I have literally no desire to pack up and follow him just so he can chase his dreams.” 

Liam nods, the corners of his mouth turned downwards.

“The worst part though is that he didn’t even  _ ask  _ me. I was feeling sick, and he waltzed in and he sat down and he woke me up and tells me that we’re moving. And like, he  _ did _ bring me tea, I guess. I don’t think he meant to be so insensitive about it, but he just  _ assumed _ that I’d be all for it. And maybe a few months ago he’d have been right. A few months ago, there wasn’t really anything here for me. I love the library but he made me feel like shit for working there anyway, and I love you but he makes me feel like shit for seeing you. But now I do see you, and I’ve missed it. And I love that library so much, Liam. And now there’s Louis and there’s book club and Niall and Zayn, even. I just feel like I have a life outside of Cam for the first time in… a long time. And I didn’t really mind, before. That he was my whole world. But now, I just…” Harry pauses, bringing his last statement to a defeated whisper. “I don’t want him to take that away from me.”

“He shouldn’t take it from you. He should want to be a part of it.”

“It’s so fucked up Liam, I don’t know how it got this fucked up.” Harry wipes his eyes. “Like, I wanted to tell him all that. But when I started with the library he called me selfish and couldn’t believe I’d put my joke of a job before his great opportunity. And it is great, it is.”

Harry feels sick again. He’d told Louis less than a week ago that he’d invite him for dinner with Cam. Now the very idea has him riddled with anxiety. He doesn’t understand how he let it become this way. Cam used to have a habit of making Harry’s heart beat faster, but it didn’t ever feel so violent before. 

“Hey, it’s okay that you don’t want to move, Harry. It’s normal to want a life outside of your partner. Can you talk to him about it?” Liam asks, with sunken shoulders. He probably knows better than anyone how difficult it is to reason with Cam. 

“I could barely admit to him that I didn’t want to leave my job,” Harry starts. “How am I supposed to tell him I’ve been sneaking around to hang out with you? And Louis? God, if he knew about Louis he’d be furious. It would hurt him so much.”

He hadn’t really let himself think about it before—how much it would hurt Cam if he found out about Louis. He’d been all too eager to dismiss it at the time. But Harry had had a fucking cuddle with him on his couch, he had  _ slept _ there one night. There was absolutely no way Cam would be okay with any of that, but he’d gone and done it anyway. And he’d really,  _ really _ liked it.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re like a brother to me and he gets jealous of you. If he found out I spent evenings at some other guy’s flat while he was away, he’d be livid, Liam. It doesn’t matter how innocent it was, it was still a secret.”

It’s all so fucked up and Harry hasn’t even cheated. Not really.

“Also, just like. I know Cam wouldn’t want me talking about our relationship with other people. But I did—Louis and I talked about it some and it was so nice. Louis didn’t make me feel stupid. He said really nice and honest things like… he said Cam should be fighting to keep me. And for the first time in a long time, it made me want to ask for things. He made it sound so easy, like what I wanted from Cam was pretty manageable. But how am I supposed to ask him to join me in my new secret life?

“It’s like. Like I really do have this whole other life now that doesn’t involve him. He was gone for a week and I was, like, happy.” Harry pauses and feels something tighten in his chest. He honestly can’t believe he’s just said this out loud. “I know that sounds absolutely horrible. I’ve felt guilty about it all this week to be honest, but I was happier going to work and then reading a book on Louis’ couch, or having lunch with you and meeting Zayn, than I have been at home with Cam in a while.”

Liam leans against the wall and crosses his arms. Harry can’t quite read his face, but it looks like he might just be thinking. Can’t blame him for mulling it over—that was a lot. His heart hurts all the more when he realizes how much he meant every word.

“Can I ask you something?”

Harry nods.

“Do you think Cameron is happy?”

It’s a good question.

“Like, with me?”

Liam shrugs. “Maybe. Or just in general. Do you think Cameron is happy?”

“Not really,” Harry admits. “I remember what it was like when he was happy. I was happy too.”

“What changed?”

Harry shakes his head. “Everything.”

“Can I ask something else?”

Harry sighs, but nods once more.

“Feel free to tell me to shut up. I don’t want to deny your wishes, and I’m not telling you you should do anything. But, do you ever think that your relationship has just… run its course?”

Harry furrows his brows, but doesn’t say anything.

“I know that you think Cameron is the one, Harry. I know you think he’s it. But shouldn’t that mean he makes you happier than anyone else? Just think about the last time he tried to make your day. The last time he told you he was proud of you.”

Harry feels his eyes welling up again, and it burns a little. It’s been awhile since he’s cried so much in a day.

“How do you know though, Liam? Like. If someone is it for you, you’re supposed to make it work. You’re supposed to fight for them and forgive them and move forward together. How do you know something is over when that was supposed to be it?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Harry. And you’re right. About fighting for them and forgiving them and moving forward together. But just think for a second about how much fighting and forgiving you’ve done. Then think about what he’s done for you.”

If he could quantify this sort of thing, his and Cam’s numbers would be uneven. On some level, Harry thinks he’s always known this. It just didn’t bother him until now, until Cam had expected him to follow blindly. Harry recalls a moment in that conversation—Cam saying at some point that Harry could just go on without a job—and it makes him angry. What did he expect—for Harry to sit at home all day? Play househusband and not have anything to call his own?

His anger has no real fire under it. It just reminds him that he’s tired. Exhausted, really. He’s fought for so long to keep something that doesn’t look anything like it did when Harry was twenty and so in love it hurt. And then something new and ugly rears its head and Harry feels fresh tears on his face when he addresses Liam.

“What if he is it, though? What if no one loves me again?”

Liam smiles and shakes his head fondly. “You know that won’t happen, Haz.”

Harry takes a deep breath. “It could though.”

“I think that’s impossible. And I think you know why.”

Harry feels his face getting warmer on the spot and he wishes Liam would stop looking at him like that. It’s not as easy as Liam might think. Just because there’s a specific face with gentle eyes and a soft voice that comes to mind, doesn’t mean… anything. It doesn’t make Harry any less difficult to love. And it doesn’t make an ending like this one any less difficult to grapple with. 

Pulling anything from its roots is daunting. You think you’ve removed it, but somehow these things always rear their heads again, even if it takes a while. Harry could be dealing with this goodbye for the rest of his life. 

“For what it’s worth, I do think you should talk to Cam. I think you should ask for all those things you and Louis talked about. Because you deserve them and because he deserves to know that you need them.”

Harry nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. He deserves to know that I want more. Maybe it’s not too late, you know?”

“Totally,” Liam smiles. “It’s never too late.”

“I’ll have to tell him everything…” 

“He deserves to know the truth at the very least.”

“Maybe if I’m honest we can fix it.”

Liam looks uneasy and stalls a moment before he nods. “Sure, Haz.”

“I just can’t give up that easily. I can’t let it all go to shit because I’ve realized I’m unhappy. He deserves that chance to fix it too.”

Liam nods, silent for a moment.

There’s an unspoken question between them, and Harry knows the right answer.

When he checks his phone and sees three missed calls from Cam, and a text from Louis, he knows the right answer is his only option.

“I’ve got to go, Liam. You should salvage your dinner plans with Zayn and tell him hello for me.”

“You going to talk to him soon, Harry?”

“You know I will.”

“Had to ask,” Liam says, soft. He smiles, “Just need to make sure you know I won’t let you forget about this. I love you too much.”

“Love you too, Liam. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Good luck, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

Harry feels the millionth flop of his own stomach today but tries his best to smile. “Hopefully I won’t. But thank you.”

“Anytime, Haz.”

Harry lifts himself off the floor and gives Liam a long hug before collecting his books and walking out the door. He checks his phone again and sees a new text message from Cam.

_ Don’t wait up for me. Drinks with lads. Sleep well, love. xx _

Harry sighs, a little annoyed, though he knows it’s much better this way. This gives him the opportunity to gather his thoughts and think of a good way to present all of this to Cam, to convince him their relationship needs saving and to show him how to do it.

_ That’s fine. Be safe. Could we maybe have a date night tomorrow? x _

He swallows hard and keeps walking, already forming a small list of points in his mind.

For the first time since this began, Louis finds himself excited for book club. He’s been reading more poetry lately, and he thinks it’s really affected his mood. He feels wistful, which is...different. Who even is he, really? It’s only partly due to imagining Harry’s face, reacting to the fanciful texts. And yes, he’s excited for book club because it means he gets to see Harry for the first time in almost a week. He’d become spoiled much more quickly than he’d meant to, seeing Harry for hours each day, and while the poetry has kept his spirits high, he has missed Harry something terrible.

This isn’t all about him though. He also really liked this book. It was rather melancholy, but he enjoyed Woolf’s take on the human psyche and really can’t wait to discuss some of the people in it. He’s sure Lottie loved Lily Briscoe and he can’t wait to hear her thoughts on everything. Come to think of it, he’s really excited to see Lottie as well. It’s been ages. Louis wonders why he hadn’t thought to invite her over last week, or why he hadn’t heard from her at all, but quickly shrugs it off as he approaches the café. At least he’ll see her in just a few minutes.

When he walks in, Grimshaw has already taken his place at the head of their usual table.  Louis smiles, a pursed-lip smirk, and nods in his direction before finding a seat on the opposite end.

“Have you had a good week, Louis?”

Louis meets his eyes, his pursed lips loosening, as he finds himself wearing a genuine crinkly-eyed smile.

“Excellent, Nicholas. And yours?”

“Oh, just fine, thanks. Did you enjoy Woolf?”

Louis nods, “I did, actually. She’s probably my favorite so far.”

“I thought she’d bore you,” Nick says, chuckling.

“Thinking about me in your spare time, then?” Louis winks and feels giddy when Nick’s cheeks turn pink. “But no, she didn’t. There were bits that dragged on, but stream of consciousness can’t always be interesting, eh?”

Nick’s still flushed with embarrassment when Perrie walks in, but Louis knows he’ll recover if he leaves him well alone before the start. He’ll consider it a truce. He can’t wait to tell Harry about it. Speaking of which, where is Harry? After Perrie came everyone had arrived except the two people he’d hoped to see most.

He checks his phone but he doesn’t have any text messages. It’s not like Harry owes him any sort of explanation for not being here. He probably just got stuck at the library, or maybe he had some plans with Cameron or something. It’s none of Louis’ business. He thinks about sending a text to ask, but if he is with Cam, he doesn’t want to get Harry into any trouble or like, ruin his time with Cameron or anything. It’s fine. He’s sure everything’s fine.

Lottie on the other hand. There’s not really any reason she wouldn’t be here, and there’s no reason she’d have neglected to call. He knows she’s been busy at school with finals. Maybe she had a group project or a paper due today that she hadn’t got to yet? There are a million reasons why Lottie might deem book club less important than something else, but… something just doesn’t sit right in Louis’ stomach about it.

He wonders if this is just a mild abandonment issue. His favorite people have left him to his own devices at book club. Surely nothing is wrong and Louis is just letting his mind get away from him. He lets himself think as much through the duration of book club. Or tries to, anyway.

Each time Mrs. Ramsay is brought up, Louis wonders absently if Harry could relate to her the way he thought he might. He wonders just how much Lottie hated Mr. Ramsay and his pride or if she pitied him the way Louis did sometimes when he could stop hating him long enough. He knows it would have been fun seeing Lottie’s eyes light up at Lily Briscoe and her artistic endeavors, and he wonders whether she would love or hate that Lily wants to find meaning in her art.

When a question is asked of him, he has to ask for it to be repeated—his mind clearly elsewhere. As it turns out, Grimshaw is much more fascinated with the last half of the book, and how the youngest son felt when he was finally allowed to see the lighthouse.

“Oh, just.” Louis sighs. “I suppose it’s true that nothing is as great as we build it up to be in our heads, yeah? Sometimes our most beautiful dreams look a lot uglier up close. I think Woolf means that really literally with the lighthouse, but I think it’s true for more abstract things as well. Like, relationships when they go to shit, or when chasing your dreams isn’t a one way street to the sort of accomplishments you want.”

Everyone’s staring at Louis like he’s said something truly profound, and ordinarily, Louis would revel in it. Or even make some snarky comment about how they’ve all underestimated him. He’s just too damn distracted. While Louis’ words are further discussed, he pulls his phone out again and shoots Lottie a text message.

_ Hey Lots, miss you at book club today. Everything alright? Xx _

“So, this book had a  _ lot _ of different characters and narratives. Does anyone have a favorite?”

Louis looks up and pockets his phone before listening to Michael talk about James like some long lost brother. Louis thinks he misunderstood Michael before. He’s the softest delinquent Louis’ ever met.

“I liked Lily a lot,” Louis offers. “Reminded me of Lottie to be honest, so I might be biased.”

“Oh, I loved Lily,” Perrie sighs.

“What about her?” Nick prods.

Louis glances at Perrie, but she seems to be waiting on him so Louis speaks first. “Lily just cared a lot about what she did in her life, but as much time as she spent creating she spent doubting her own creation. I think anyone remotely involved in the arts can understand that underlying fear that you won’t make any difference. That your life’s work will be thrown in boxes in attics and forgotten,” Louis shrugs.

It’s hard not to notice the gargantuan smirk on Nick’s face across the table, and Louis would scoff or do something to wipe it off. But it doesn’t really matter anymore. He likes book club, and he liked this book. He’s geeked out over Charles Dickens with a member of this book club, for god’s sake, so he can’t really pretend he’s too cool for this. Grimshaw can smirk all he wants.

He sort of gets it now, why all those months ago Talia the school counselor thought this might be a good idea. He should probably thank Lottie later. He checks his phone again, but there’s still no reply.

When book club is over, Louis’ become genuinely stressed about Lottie. It isn’t like her to ignore him. Even on her worst days, she’ll send some piss poor attempt at reassurance.

He grabs his jacket and zips it quickly before stepping outside to call for reinforcements.

“Hi, love,” Jay says fondly on the phone. It’s amazing that no matter how old Louis is, he feels such immediate relief when he hears her voice.

“Hi mum,” he says, mirroring her tone.

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. How are you? How are the girls? Ernest still holding his own?”

Jay laughs. “You know he is. Got hold of an entire roll of toilet paper the other day, you can imagine that outcome.”

Louis laughs, “Excellent. And the girls are good?”

“Oh I suppose. Fizzy’s being difficult about picking a school, but she’ll come around. The twins are excellent, and Doris is surviving.”

“I can only imagine. Was she an accomplice in the toilet paper incident?”

“Only accidentally. The poor dear tried to pick it up after him but only succeeded in ripping it and leaving it in pieces about the house.”

Louis’ cheeks hurt from how wide his smile is. He knows he’ll have to make a trip home soon. Maybe if he figures out what’s wrong with Lottie, he can make her come too.

“Louis, I’m sure you’ve something to tell me, but can I ask you something first?”

Louis shrugs. “Of course, what’s up?”

“Has Lottie told you anything recently?”

Louis huffs a laugh. “Funny, that’s exactly why I called you. Have you heard from her at all? I texted her when she wasn’t at book club and I haven’t heard back.”

Jay sighs. This is exactly what Louis was afraid of.

“Louis, I don’t want to alarm you, alright?”

Louis’ heart speeds involuntarily at the tone of his mom’s voice.

“Mum, what’s happened,” Louis says, stone cold.

“She’s fine, love. Well, she’s not fine. But in her way, she is. Nothing’s happened, she just got a little overwhelmed at school. She’s here now, in her bedroom.”

“She’s  _ home? _ In Doncaster?”

“Yes, darling, and she’s fine. She’s hydrated and she’s eating, she’s just home.”

“What about her courses? Why didn’t she call me?”

Louis feels something fierce in his chest. At first he thinks it’s anger, but there’s a pang of guilt to follow and he realizes that he’s actually a little hurt. It might be a tad selfish. Lottie doesn’t  _ have _ to call him every time. God knows, sometimes he just needs his mum—but if it was bad enough that she wanted to go home, then it’s been bad for a while. Louis’ heart hurts when he realizes how long it must’ve been amiss. Where had he been? Why hadn’t he been more diligent about calling?

He wants someone to hit him across the face when he realizes. He’d been with Harry. Louis curses himself for being absent and selfish when he realizes Jay is mid-sentence.

“—fine. She was embarrassed I think. Didn’t want to admit that it had gotten that bad.”

“Mum, I’m coming home.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe I had no idea it was that bad. I’ll be there later tonight, alright? Just leave the door unlocked, please.”

  
  


Louis hops on a train and calls his boss and tells him there’s been a family emergency and he’ll be out the next few days. If his boss has a problem with it, maybe Louis’ due for a new job anyway. He’s barely packed anything at all, just his toothbrush and a few pairs of pants and t-shirts. He might also have grabbed Harry’s favorite Bukowski collection, but that’s neither here nor there. Can’t entertain himself on the train with his pants, can he?

He picks up the book and frowns at it. He doesn’t regret spending so much time with Harry. What he does regret is letting it distract him from his sister’s wellbeing. He should’ve known something was up. Or at least, he should’ve wondered about her. He should’ve asked how her studying was going. He should’ve checked in more in general.

He looks out the window then, and sees the wind blowing the trees as the sun is setting. He sets his forehead against the glass and sighs. His mum hadn’t sounded horribly distressed over the phone, so he’s sure that Lottie is fine. He only hopes now that she can forgive him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. There's that. 
> 
> Just so you all know, we're getting to the end of all this. I've got two or three chapters left depending on how my next few edits go. That said, I'm incredibly nervous about posting this. I hope you'll let me know what you think! I appreciate you all SO much for following along so far. Every comment and kudos means the world to me. :) 
> 
> Alright. I'm done talking your ear off now. Come say hey on [tumblr](haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) if you want and while you're there you can reblog my [fic post](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/post/148073365969/mutability-harry-and-louis-meet-at-a-book-club)! 
> 
> See you next time!


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, hi. 
> 
> First, thank you to [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) and [Elena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah) very much for your feedback and honesty. You're both wonderful for loving this story and me. 
> 
> Second, please proceed with caution, my dear friends. The content warning for this fic is of course referring to the instances of abuse that Harry has experienced up to this point. However, things take a darker turn in this chapter. If you are worried about being triggered, I urge you to skip Harry's scenes and come [talk to me](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/ask). I am happy to fill in any blanks that you need without causing you unnecessary stress.  
> There is also mention of some mental illness in this chapter and a character's experience in overcoming it. And again, Jay makes a brief appearance in the first part of this chapter. 
> 
> I love you guys. Please be nice to yourselves. And keep in mind, it's always darkest before the dawn. <3

When Louis arrives, it’s only just past ten o’clock. Both sets of twins are probably in bed, but he thinks he’ll find at least Fizzy or maybe his mum still awake. He can see the light of the television flickering in the window out front, and he smiles. It’s probably his mum, watching those crime shows that always make it hard for her to sleep.

He doesn’t knock, just turns the doorknob, pleased that she left it unlocked for him. He sets his bag at the door and enters the living room to find both Fizzy and Jay awake. Fizzy’s got her computer out and she’s typing away, while his mum sits with her feet up on the coffee table—a habit Louis used to be scolded for.

“Mum, get your feet off the table,” Louis says from behind her.

Jay gasps before Louis comes around the corner and plops down on the couch beside her. She grins and wraps her arms around his middle. “Oh, you. I do what I want.”

“Funny, that argument never worked for me,” Louis laughs, returning her hug.

Fizzy hasn’t looked up from her computer, but he can see from the glint in her eyes that she’s fighting back a smile.

“What? Too old and too cool to be happy to see me?”

Fizzy shakes her head, biting her lip. “I’m  _ trying  _ to finish this.”

“Fine. Mum gives better hugs than you anyway.”

“That’s only because it’s part of her job description.” Fizzy rolls her eyes dramatically. “I know you’re dying for one from me.”

“Then come give me one,” he insists.

Fizzy glances up at him and smirks. “It’ll only be a moment.”

Louis sighs and sets his head on Jay’s shoulder. She gives him another squeeze.

“Is she okay?” he whispers.

“She’s fine, love.”

“Why did she come here then?”

“I think she just knew her limits. She felt things getting dark again, so she took a short reprieve. She’ll be on her way back soon.”

“But why didn’t she tell me?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound quite so sulky.

“You’ll have to talk to her about that one,” Jay sighs. “I love that you want to be there for her so much, Lou. It makes her being out there so much easier for me, knowing that the two of you can take care of each other. But sometimes,  _ maybe _ Lottie knows better than you.” Jay nudges Louis playfully.

Louis huffs. “I resent that. As the older and wiser, I’m always right.”

Jay laughs. “We’ve got to learn to trust her though, don’t we?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Is she up?”

Jay lifts Louis’ head with her shoulder. “You can go check on her if you like.”

“Hug me first!” Fizzy cries suddenly, standing quickly.

Louis laughs as she pulls him off the couch and hugs him tightly.

“Missed you too, Fiz.”

He kisses the top of her head and ruffles her hair, earning himself a hard slap on the arm. He snorts when she crosses her arms defiantly and returns to her work. 

Louis makes his way to Lottie’s bedroom door and knocks softly. He doesn’t want to knock much louder in case she is asleep, but when a minute goes by without answer, he’s not sure she heard it. He opens the door just slightly and finds the bedside lamp is on. Lottie’s reading what looks like a textbook, with her pillows propped up against her headboard. She glances to the door and scowls before returning to her book, clearly pretending Louis isn’t there.

“Hey Lots, can I come in?”

She shakes her head. “No. You may not. And you can catch the next train back to London if you would, please.”

“Well I’m already here, so...can we talk?”

Lottie rolls her eyes and sighs as dramatically as she can. Louis really only has himself to blame for that one. She learned from the best.

“Please?”

Lottie slams her textbook shut and crosses her arms. “Fine.”

He closes her door behind him and climbs onto the foot of Lottie’s bed. Lottie crosses her legs so Louis can sit opposite her the same way. She fiddles with a piece of her hair, and leans back. Louis guesses that means he’s starting.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me.”

Lottie rolls her eyes again.

“And,” Louis continues, “you have every right to be. I’m sorry. I was a really shitty brother. I should’ve checked in on you or just asked you to hang out more—I just got distracted, and—”

“Louis, you’re an idiot.”

“I’m  _ trying _ to apologize to you!”

“That’s not why I’m angry at you, you twat.”

“Well then, what is it?” Louis asks, incredulous.

“We were  _ fine _ , until you decided to march your arse out here to check on me,” Lottie groans. “I didn’t  _ want _ you to know, Louis. That’s why you haven’t seen me, because I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s my job to worry about you, Lottie, you’re my sister. And I did a shitty job of watching out for you.”

“You didn’t though! You were just carrying on and living your life!” she says, growing frustrated. “You were seeing your friends, and you were reading books because you enjoyed it, and when I stopped by last week, Niall said himself he hasn’t seen you so happy in a while. I didn’t want to ruin that, Lou.”

“But you wouldn’t have ruined anything. You  _ know _ I’d rather you come and talk to me about shit than let you deal with it on your own,” Louis huffs. “You gave me a fucking heart attack when I found out things were bad enough for you to just come here! And you never  _ said _ anything!”

“Louis. I’m fine. I was fine. I wasn’t falling apart. I wasn’t breaking. I was just really overwhelmed, okay?”

“Well why’d you stop by my place and talk to Niall? What happened?”

Lottie sighs. “Well, I broke up with Peter last week, and—”

“Wait,  _ you _ broke up with him?” Louis asks.

“Yes, Louis. I broke up with him, not the other way around.”

“That’s not what I mean, Lots—”

“Yes, it is, and it’s fine. I know, we were all waiting for him to pull the plug for a while, but I beat him to it. It turns out he hadn’t planned to, even though it was  _ really _ about that time.”

“Lottie, you know that’s not true. You know that you’re worth—”

“Louis, will you please just shut the hell up?”

He’s taken aback by her strict tone. He’s not used to being spoken to this way, especially by Lottie, so he chooses to comply.

“No interrupting. Stop assuming you know what’s going on and let me just explain. Since you  _ insisted _ on coming out here, even though I didn’t ask for your help. If you really want to help me, you’ll shut up.”

Louis nods again, on the verge of cowering.

“Do you remember...” she pauses, collecting the words, “a few months ago when things got bad again? And you came to my room, and you told me I can’t make decisions for other people? I told you I’d shown him the door, and you said he probably hadn’t left the doorstep. Well, you were right. He hadn’t. And that was exactly the problem.

“It’s just. I showed him the door, because I didn’t want anyone else to have to deal with me or my illness, because nobody deserves to be dragged down with me. And then, well, you know I’ve still been meeting with Talia and she helped me see a lot. She helped me see that like, things like book club, and girls nights, and, like internships, were all right outside that door and that they’re mine for the taking. And, for the first time in a long time, I think I’m ready for that. Because, like, I know that my depression will never really go away, and that all these things are difficult, but I’m allowed to enjoy them. Just because my room gets really dark sometimes doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to step outside and enjoy a few things.”

Louis offers a soft smile, hoping she can’t see the tears that are starting to surface.

“The problem is, Peter wasn’t the only one at my doorstep, Lou. There was one more. And instead of inviting me out, sometimes they kept me in. They didn’t mean to. They were just protecting me. But what I really need is for someone to grab my hand and help me step outside.”

Louis watches her, hoping to catch her eyes. He’s afraid of what he’ll find when she looks up. She smiles apologetically.

“Did I really?” he asks, almost disbelieving. He’s always wanted to be the wind beneath his sister’s wings—he’s never imagined himself keeping her stuck on the ground.

“Not always. Peter always did, but when I tell  _ you _ I want to go outside, you’re the first one to take my hand. You’ve always been there when I asked. But you do coddle me sometimes, Lou. There are times when I know you think I can’t do something because you’re afraid it’ll rattle me.”

Louis shakes his head. “That’s not because I don’t think you can, though. You know I think you can do anything, Lottie. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know, Lou,” Lottie smiles.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t try stopping by again. Just because I’m not there the first time doesn’t mean I won’t answer the phone. You know I’ll drop anything if you need me.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I didn’t want you to. To be honest, Lou, I was stopping by to  _ tell _ you that I was going to mum’s. I didn’t plan on asking you first. I’d already made up my mind. I needed to just get away for a while.”

Louis wants to huff and pout, but he knows it’s purely selfish.

Lottie reaches out between them and grabs Louis’ hands. “Lou, I love you. You’re the best big brother in the world. But you know… I can make my own decisions most of the time. My brain and I don’t always get along so well, but it doesn’t mean I’m totally incapable of seeing what’s good for me. In fact, I’m still the best judge of that.”

“Guessing Talia helped you with that too?”

Lottie chuckles. “Yeah, she did. Wouldn’t have started seeing her if it wasn’t for you, though.”

Louis grins. “I love you too, by the way.”

Lottie lets go of Louis’ hands and leans back again. They don’t say much for a few moments, but the air around them still feels a little heavy. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis admits, defeated. “I’m sorry you felt coddled, and I’m sorry you didn’t want to come to me—”

“It wasn’t at all about that, Lou. It was that I didn’t need to. But, for the record, you’re forgiven for coddling me. I know you thought it was in my best interest.”

“Did you e-mail your professors and everything?”

Lottie nods. “Yep, got extensions on a few final projects, and all my written tests landed in the same couple days so I’ll be back in time for those.”

“I’m proud of you,” Louis says. Lottie beams, and for the first time since Louis barged in and it all feels okay. They’re going to be okay.

“Hey, Lou?”

Louis hums.

“You know you can talk to me too, right? About anything?”

Louis shrugs. “I mean, yeah, sure. Why?”

“You just don’t. Not really, I mean. You’ll tell me about your day and we talk about random shit but you never have a proper chat with me unless I’m sad.”

Louis doesn’t reply, but he knows she’s right. They don’t talk about him much, and he sort of prefers it that way. He’s always wanted to be stronger.

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to tell me anything you’re uncomfortable with, but I just… don’t want you to feel like you have to be all alone either. Like, you live with me and a lot of my pain, so I want to live with you and yours too.”

“I’m sure you don’t really want all that,” Louis scoffs. “Besides, I do tell you everything—I just spare the sad and sorry details. I have no real reason to mope.”

Lottie rolls her eyes. “You hate your job, but you won’t tell me why. You love book club but you won’t admit it because I think it might cause you actual pain to say you enjoy something. You’ve been spending a  _ lot _ of time with Harry and I had to hear about that from Niall of all people.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

Lottie leans forward and chuckles. “I was trying to be nice and invite you to share, but now I’ve decided you don’t have a choice anymore, Lou. Please tell me your life’s problems.”

She crosses her arms and waits. Louis leans in too, so their faces are sort of close. He takes a deep breath. 

“Nick Grimshaw’s quiff has given me nightmares,” Louis deadpans.

“I’m serious!” Lottie laughs, giving him a light shove.

“Lottie, I really don’t think you want to know,” Louis says, still gently laughing at his own joke. “I mean, maybe you  _ want _ to, but honestly, it’s not your job to worry about what goes on up here.” He taps his head.

Lottie forges onward. “Okay, but really, though. Niall told me you’ve been hanging out with Harry and that you were extremely happy all in the same sentence and I demand to know more.”

“See! You don’t  _ really _ want me to tell you things, you just want to know about Harry!”

“Shut up and answer the question.”

“I can’t do both of those things at once.”

“Stop being a twat and answer the question then.”

“Harry and I are friends. We enjoy each other’s company. But before you say anything else, you should know that he’s engaged.” He doesn’t mean to sound quite so sad about it.

“Wait, really?!”

Louis nods. “Yep. He’s engaged—to an asshole, if I’m honest. Harry’s been really cagey about hanging out. Like, he does, and we do, but it’s pretty clear that his fiancé doesn’t have a clue Harry’s been hanging out with me. Harry hasn’t even told him he joined book club because the fiancé wouldn’t approve of it.”

“Are you serious? God, no wonder he got all weird about Jane Eyre. I  _ knew _ something had to be wrong. Does he have any idea how gone for him you are?” 

Louis groans. “I’m not  _ gone _ for him Lottie. He’s lovely, and funny, and endearing, and we get on really well, but he’s also engaged and I’m not about to stick my nose in places it doesn’t belong, alright?”

“Nothing has ever stopped you before,” Lottie shrugs.

“What does  _ that _ mean?” Louis asks, bewildered.

“I just mean that the only important part of that description is that you think he’s lovely, funny and endearing. God, you’re really in over your head, aren’t you? How long have they been together?”

“Dunno. He may have mentioned uni? But I don’t know many details.”

“What if they break up? What would you do?” Lottie cuts in quickly. 

“Oh, God. I dunno. I’d want to be there for him.” 

“Don’t take advantage though, Lou.” 

Louis makes an affronted noise. “Lots, if that were my game, I’d have made my move by now.”

“It’s not a  _ game _ , Louis,” Lottie scolds. 

“No, no, no, that’s absolutely not what I meant. I just mean, if I had ever planned to take  _ advantage _ of Harry, I’d have had my chances in the last week. So, no,  _ if _ Harry and Cameron broke up, I would absolutely not take advantage of him. It would be so hard on Harry.” 

“How do you know?” 

“I mean, he’s talked about it with me. Liam—Harry’s best mate—hasn’t been shy about telling Harry he doesn’t like Cameron and Harry even said he’s worried Liam’s right about him. I think most of that stems from how hard it’s been for Harry to like, see any of his friends. Cameron isn’t so keen on Harry having any in the first place.” 

“Oh my God, they’re going to break up,” Lottie says, eyes wide. 

“You can’t  _ possibly _ know that.”

“No, I can’t. But I do know that he’s with some asshole who won’t let him have friends—but he seems to have broken that rule for you.”

She has a point.

“So you really like him then?” Lottie prods. 

Louis sighs, but nods yes. He really does.

“God, this must be so miserable for you,” Lottie says. “I’m so sorry Lou. But I think you’re right that it’d be hard. He probably just needs a friend right now.” 

“That’s what Liam told me too. Granted he doesn’t know my, erm,  _ feelings _ , exactly. But he’s said that Harry needs a friend. And like, I want to be that, I really do.” Louis fiddles with Lottie’s duvet, avoiding her eyes. “But I also really want to kiss him and it’s becoming a bit of an issue.”

“Do you think Harry likes you too?” 

“I mean, we’re friends—”

“But do you think there might be a reason he’s gone out on a limb for you? Why he wants to be your friend?”

Louis shrugs. He has sincerely wondered that before. Harry could just be thrilled to have a friend after so long, but sometimes, the glint in his eyes, and his interest in closeness sends another message. Louis doesn’t think Harry’s socially stinted—not in the least. He isn’t sure what’s acceptable in Cameron’s eyes when he interacts with other people, but he  _ knows _ Cameron wouldn’t appreciate them cuddling on Louis’ couch with a book late into the night.

“I don’t know if he’s one hundred percent aware of the messages he’s sending—but he does… seem to, erm, reciprocate at least a fraction of my feelings.”

“So he likes you too, then. The kissing thing shouldn’t be a problem forever. Honestly Lou, just be there for him. When that shit show finally dies, he’ll remember you.”

Louis shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Hopefully.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Louis agrees. “I don’t want to be a dick though. It feels so fucked up—waiting for him to break up with his asshole fiancé so he can realize I’m better. Like, I just want to say, for the record, that if he breaks up with his asshole fiancé and falls in love with fucking Niall I’d be fine.” He pauses, reconsidering, “Okay, I might actually murder Niall. But that’s not the point. I just want Harry to be happy. He doesn’t deserve the shit he goes through now. Not at all.”

“I’m glad you’re not being totally insufferable about it, and I don’t want to encourage the ‘nice guy’ act, but I’ve just got this feeling that it’ll be you, Lou.” 

“And how the  _ fuck _ do you know that?”

Lottie continues, undeterred. “And if for whatever reason, it’s not you… you’ll be okay. I know it.” Lottie smiles reassuringly. “See? Talking to your sister isn’t  _ that  _ difficult.”

Louis wants to argue, but he does feel better. It’s a relief to get this off his chest with someone he trusts. His feelings for Harry have been eating him up inside, hoping to someday be poured out on Harry himself. Now that he’s released what’s been bubbling at the surface, he’s content for them to sit at a low boil.

“Yeah. Turns out I have a pretty kickass sister. She’s brilliant as fuck and doesn’t need me so much anymore.”

Lottie grins. “It’s true. She is pretty kickass. But she’ll always need you, okay?”

“Okay,” Louis nods.

“Now get out of my bedroom, I need my rest before I return to hellish finals.”

Louis laughs. He scooches up beside her,  kissing the top of her head and letting her wrap her arms around his waist. He squeezes her tight and bids her goodnight.

 

Harry knows this will have to go one of two ways. 

Cam might hear him out. He might even apologize. He might kiss Harry the way he likes to be kissed, and agree that couples counseling is the best option for them. They could make love and feel renewed and eat the dinner Harry’s focused all his nervous energy on and be well on their way to a real happily ever after.

He knows it likely won’t happen that way, but he hasn’t let himself really think about the alternative. He doesn’t think Cam will want the alternative, either—so maybe he’ll be willing to take a few steps in the right direction, for happily ever after’s sake. Harry has to give his fiancé the benefit of the doubt. He’s banking on it.

When Cam had left for work that morning, he’d asked Harry if everything was alright. Harry had smiled and nodded and asked if they were still on for tonight. Cam had agreed and said he’d be home by five.

Harry hadn’t been expecting to find himself sitting alone at the beautifully set table at seven, keeping the roast warm in the oven, without any idea of when Cam would return. 

Come seven-thirty, Harry’s not sure Cam deserves the benefit of the doubt anymore.

He’s just about to pull his phone out when the door opens. Cam glances at Harry and grins, setting his briefcase down by the door and approaching Harry with open arms. Harry stands and lets Cam hug him, but it feels stilted and wrong. Harry wants to feel relieved, but he’s just so nervous, and he’s irritated that Cam doesn’t seem to realize he’s late. He’s supposed to be sorry.

“I’ve had the greatest day,” Cam says when he pulls away.

Harry frowns, but Cam doesn’t notice.

“My boss told me more about that position and how they’re developing it, and I just can’t help but feel like it’s all perfect, innit? It’s just all lining up so well, and I can’t believe he has me in mind for something this big. It’s like my  _ dream _ job, Haz.”

Harry tries to smile. This is, after all, what he really wants—for Cam to be happy. But he wants to be happy too.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Cam searches Harry’s face, and Harry purses his lips, trying again to smile. “I’m glad you had a great day. I’ve just been waiting. We said five this morning, remember?” He tries to shrug, because after all, it isn’t  _ that _ big of a deal. Not in the grand scheme of things.

Cam frowns. “I figured you wouldn’t mind if I got held up for something like that.”

“I mean, I don’t, usually. Just, today I really wanted to see you.”

“Well, you’re seeing me now, aren’t you?” Cam says, grabbing a glass off the table and filling it with water from the tap.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry says, dumbly. He turns to find the oven mitts and pull the roast out of the oven, hoping it hasn’t dried out from cooking too long. He’d kept it on low, but it’s still been over an hour.

Harry serves them, cutting the roast and plating it, along with the baked carrots and potatoes. He’s pleased to find that it isn’t too rough, hoping that maybe this might soften the blow of whatever he finds the will to tell Cameron tonight. It’s becoming harder and harder to imagine. The carefully constructed speech he’d practiced six times in the shower this morning feels like something he’d come up with ages ago, long gone from his memory.

They sit and eat mostly in silence for longer than Harry wants. He can see his time wasting. Every bite Cam takes is a second gone from his opportunity to speak up. If he doesn’t soon, Cam will grow tired and dismissive. He’ll ask if they can talk later and watch TV instead, and Harry will have to work up the courage all over again some other day. As much as he wants to put it off, he knows that this is the best thing for both of them, and it’s urgent.

His stomach twists, and he regrets attempting to eat anything beforehand. He wishes for a second that Cam would just say something.  _ Anything _ . He’s so accustomed to Cam leading that he doesn’t really know how to take the reins or even stand up straight right now. He just wants Cam to be the one to say they can fix it. He wants him to know that there’s something wrong at all.

And it’s that thought, right there, that gives Harry the push he needs.

“Cam, can we talk?”

Cam wipes his mouth with one of the nice cloth napkins Harry set out and furrows his eyebrows.

“Sure, love. How was your day?”

“Um, it was fine. But I, er… I mean, really talk. There’s just. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Okay?” Cam replies. Harry can sense his nervousness. The way it’s made the air feel thinner and tight somehow makes his head spin.

“I joined a book club.”

Harry really doesn’t know why he started with that. Maybe because it’s the least of his worries. The easiest thing to admit.

“A book club?”

“Yeah. Where you, um, read books and then meet with people to like, talk about them? It’s a pretty common thing, actually.”

“I know what a book club  _ is _ , Haz. Why would you do that?” His brow is furrowed, and Harry can hear his foot tapping the floor impatiently. 

“Well… I did it because, I was...” He pauses. “I was really lonely.”

Cam doesn’t even try to conceal his irritation. He purses his lips and pointedly cocks one eyebrow. “How do you mean lonely?”

“I just. Well, it was beginning to feel like… It feels like I don’t do much, Cam,” he starts, keeping his voice even, though he struggles to maintain his volume. “I work at the library, and I come home to you, and I love you, but I think I just… I needed some friends.”

“You have friends,” Cam replies. “I mean, you’ve always had friends. You love those ladies at the library—aren’t they your friends?”

“I mean yes, of course,” Harry admits. “But I can’t really invite them over or anything, and I see them all day anyway, so I just thought—”

“So why would you want to invite them over? You don’t see me all day.” Cam speaks as though his logic is perfect. Harry aches with the realization that a few weeks ago, he might have agreed.

Cam bites into his roast and asks through his mouthful, “Why a book club?”

“I don’t know, Cam. It just kind of happened.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d like it,” Harry admits. “And Cam… that’s. That’s what I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you like that? Don’t you want me to be happy?”

“I guess I didn’t realize a book club was the ticket. Aren’t you already happy?” Cam asks, in disbelief.

Harry doesn’t know how to answer that. Something in Cam’s demeanor shifts. The set of his shoulders is broader, his eyes narrowed, his mouth set in a frown. Harry takes a breath to say  _ anything _ but Cam speaks instead.

“Am I just not enough, then? I don’t make you happy anymore?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, no, Cam it’s not like that. Really.”

“Then what’s it like, Harry. Please enlighten me.”

Harry inhales and shakes his head. “Cam, you stay out late with your friends all the time and I just stay here. I stay here with my books just waiting for you because I don’t have anyone to call.” It all bursts from somewhere deep in his chest and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for just a moment before he asks, “Don’t you see anything a little wrong with that?”

“You have given me zero reason to believe you were unhappy,” Cam says in defense. “Literally, Harry, it’s been like this for years and you’ve always been fine. You’ve never complained before. What even is this?”

He hates it when Cam gets this way—helpless and defensive. The guilt lays thick on Harry’s heart when he thinks of how his words are hurting Cam. This is why he hates to keep things from him.

“It’s me being honest. I want you to be happy. But you’ve made  _ me _ feel bad for having friends ever since you told me you didn’t want me to see Liam anymore.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cam leans back in his seat and rolls his eyes. “So what if I don’t trust Liam? Harry, I know you’re fucking oblivious to what’s going on around you but Liam acts like he has a thing for you and you  _ know _ that. That’s  _ completely _ different. My friends aren’t coming on to me.”

“Liam’s like a brother to me,” Harry mutters. “I’ve explained that to you countless times. I want absolutely nothing to do with Liam in that way, and I know he feels the exact same. He’s not a threat at all.”

“Then why won’t you ever fucking drop it? If he doesn’t matter that way to you, then why do we keep having this argument? Is he part of your ‘book club’ too?”

“Cam, this isn’t even  _ about _ Liam,” Harry starts. He can feel his face growing hot, his heart beating harder in his chest. “I joined a book club because I was lonely because I don’t have any friends and I want you to be okay with that. I just want you to be okay with me having friends.”

“Sure, fine! You have friends!” Cam drops his fork and throws his arms out. 

“Cam, you don’t understand.” Harry tries his best to take in a deep breath, but even that feels shallow. “They do want to hang out with me, but I don’t always feel like I’m allowed to hang out with them. And then you turn around and you ditch me for your friends, but never think to like, invite me or whatever. You know I’ve never done well on my own—”

“Since when are you on your own?” Cam interrupts. “You don’t need to be so fucking dramatic, Harry.” He’s livid now, Harry can see the shake in his palm and the panic in his eyes.

“I spend a  _ lot _ of time alone, Cam. You come home late sometimes with no warning and on my days off you prefer for me to stay home.”

“No,  _ you _ preferred to stay home. Harry, the  _ only _ thing I’ve asked is that you don’t see Liam. You didn’t have to stay home.”

“What else would I do? You’re clearly not thrilled at my joining a book club, so what could I have done that wouldn’t be an issue for you?”

“I just don’t understand where the hell this is coming from. You have a hobby, you have a great job—and  _ friends _ .” Cam rolls his eyes. “It’s not like reading is actually a social activity, Harry, so staying home lets you do what you want and it gives us time together. Aren’t I important?”

“You  _ are _ , Cam,” Harry chokes,  so frustrated he can feel his eyes welling up. He tries to keep his voice steady as he continues. “That’s exactly it, Cam you’re  _ so _ important. It’s just that I don’t always feel like I am. I don’t feel important.”

Cam frowns. “What are you saying?”

Harry sighs, gathering himself. He starts to shrug, but immediately shakes his head. He can’t dismiss this.

“I just feel… I feel like this isn’t enough anymore. What we have, it’s not enough. I want to live my life too Cam, and as much as I love and support you, what I really,  _ really _ want is for you to do the same for me.”

Cam stares across the table at Harry. He looks at a loss for words. 

“I didn’t realize you felt this way.” 

Harry shakes his head. “I didn’t either, to be honest. At least, not right away. It all felt normal until recently I  _ did _ make some friends. They’re wonderful, Cam. And I wanted you to meet them, but then I realized you may not want to. That it may upset you. And that’s just… That’s really been weighing on me.”

“You’ve… met someone.” 

Cam is giving him this godawful look. The kind that feels condemning. Harry has told him next to nothing about his new friends, but Cam thinks he has all the information he needs. 

Harry tries to swallow it back. He tries not to fight and only answer with what’s true. “I’ve met people, yes.”

Cam’s eyes grow wider. “ _ People? _ ”

“Oh God, no, Cam it’s not like  _ that _ .”

“Then what is it like, Harry? You’ve been doing all this behind my back, how am I supposed to know what else you’ve been doing?” 

Each statement stings more than the last. It’s making his head spin. His limbs almost feel like dead weight, as if someone else is moving them. “Cameron, I need you to just  _ listen  _ to me.”

“Whoever you met at that  _ bloody _ book club is full of shit, Harry.” Cam grips his hair and shakes his head in disbelief. “This isn’t like you and you have to know that. Whoever he is, he’s a filthy liar. He’s an ass and I can’t believe you’d listen to him.”

Harry’s skin crawls and he gets to his feet before he can think about it. Cam doesn’t  _ know _ Louis. Cam doesn’t know how  _ good _ Louis is. How respectful, and kind, and generous, and wonderful. Cam could never know and he doesn’t even deserve to. Not if he actually thinks that Harry would cheat on him. He can’t believe he’d ever even thought about introducing them.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Harry. What the  _ actual _ fuck.” Harry waits for him to go on, but he doesn’t. Instead he stares at Harry, expectant and furious. 

Harry doesn’t know what to do with his hands where he’s standing and Cam is looking up at him from the table like he’s just killed Cam’s dream. And each and every time Harry feels that punch in the gut that comes with letting his fiancé down, he almost gives in. He almost says he’s sorry and asks him to drop it. He’s just scared. And he doesn’t know how to fix this if Cam won’t even  acknowledge how fucked up this is. How fucked up Harry feels.

What prompts him to continue is the memory of something Louis said in the quiet of his living room.  _ You’ve done nothing wrong here. You deserve to be happy too. _

And maybe Louis never even  _ said _ that, but Harry felt it.

“I just want us  _ both _ to be happy, Cam. I love you and I want you to be happy...and I really thought you’d want the same for me.”

Cam pushes his chair back, away from the table, and he leans forward, elbows to his knees and his face in his hands. It looks like he’s holding back, and for a moment Harry has hope that this is going somewhere. 

“Harry,” Cam starts, folding his hands and letting them dangle between his knees,  “you’re being unreasonable. Of course I want you to be happy. I thought you  _ were _ happy.”

Harry’s chest feels tight and he takes a deep breath. “I tried, Cam. I tried to tell you. You shushed me. And now you’re calling me unreasonable.”

Cam looks up, face incredulous. “Do you hear yourself right now?”

Harry’s stomach lurches as he reaches for his dinner dish and takes it to the sink. 

“I could say the same to you.” He turns to face Cam, who has resumed hiding his face in fury or frustration or whatever. “All I want—Cameron, just  _ look _ at me—all I  _ want _ is for you to support me. I want us to support each other. That’s what couples  _ do, _ Cam—they support  _ each other _ . One doesn’t ask the other to follow them around like a lost puppy because they’re in this  _ together _ . I thought you would want that.”

Cam bites the inside of his cheek, fingers tapping on the table.

“This is about the move, isn’t it,” he says. That’s not the only reason, but Harry doesn’t argue. “Are you just mad because something  _ good _ is finally happening to me? We came all this way for my current job, and you were  _ happy _ for me. And now you’ve changed your mind? If that’s what it is, Harry, I just want you to understand what you’re telling me. You say we should support each other, but you wouldn’t be willing to move for me to have my dream job? You would consider that following me like a lost puppy even though you’d be able to find a job just like the one you have now anywhere else? You think you have the right to say our support isn’t mutual when your bloody job is a joke and I have the  _ audacity _ to ask you to follow me for something prestigious that puts food on your fucking table?”

Harry’s still standing, but he feels two inches tall. Cam has never looked at him like this before. Like he’s really betrayed him. Like the edge of the knife in his back can be seen through his chest.

There are tears now, and he’s not entirely able to help them. He’s just so tired, and frustrated, and he’s never been good at standing his ground with Cam when at his angriest he dissolves into tears.

“Cam, you keep saying you didn’t notice I wasn’t happy,” he says, swallowing. “Don’t you think that’s a problem? Especially now, because I’m telling you, but you’re saying I don’t have the right to be. You’re telling me that I shouldn’t be unhappy, but I  _ am, _ and all I want is for you to  _ do _ something about it.”

Cam stands and the chair screeches as he pushes it back toward the table. Harry wipes at his eyes as Cam slowly walks toward him.

“What do you want, then?”

Harry looks at him, straight in the eyes. Cam’s eyes have filled with tears, spilling down his cheeks. He wants to fall to the floor, he wants to cry and just say he’s sorry, but he can’t be sorry when he needs Cameron to know—he just wants Cameron to fix this.

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Are you trying to break up with me?”

Harry can’t say it. He wants to say no, but he also just doesn’t  _ know _ what he wants. He just wants this fight to be over. His head is down and he’s crying and he just wants Cam to apologize. He wants a kiss—a deep and meaningful one—and a sincere apology.

“Harry. Look at me.”

Harry does. He lifts his head and meets Cam’s eyes.

“Are you trying to break up with me?”

Harry’s face falls. “Cameron, I just don’t—” 

He’s cut off abruptly by a cold slap across his face. At first he doesn’t even register it’s happened. He feels the sharp sting on his cheek and thinks he’s still crying, until he physically turns his head back to an equally shocked Cameron. He brings his hand to the side of his face and time stops.

He searches Cameron’s face for only a moment and finds fear, and regret, and tears of his own once he’s realized it’s happened.

“Haz—”

“ _ Don’t _ .” Harry says, voice cold. He feels numb. “Don’t.”

Cameron cries, tears streaming down his face freely and Harry knows he wants to kiss him now, but it’s much too late.

“Cameron, I do love you. But I can’t do this. I won’t do this.”

“Wait, Harry—please!”

Harry doesn’t register much after that. He goes to their room, and he grabs a bag and a few of his favorite t-shirts. In the part of his mind that isn’t whirring incessantly he can hear Cameron crying and screaming and throwing things, but Harry can’t stop. He can’t stop packing and he can’t stop and listen to Cameron’s pleas on his way to the door and he can’t stop walking.

Where his mind was whirring before, now there’s Cameron’s pleas and cries and screams on a loop as he walks the streets alone with no final destination. It’s starting to get dark, and he wonders if he should call someone, but he doesn’t know what to say. He sort of wants his mum but the shame he’s feeling is unbearable. He could call Louis, but then Cameron would be right. Harry can’t let Cameron be right.

Harry walks and walks and walks until his feet hurt and he knows he should probably go to Liam’s but it’s so far away.

He calls Liam, and doesn’t even make it to hello before he’s sobbing into the phone.

The only thing Liam asks Harry is where he’s at so he can pick him up. When he shows up, there are no bullshit questions he knows the answers to, or any trace of an ‘I told you so.’

Harry just hiccups from the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, his things resting at his feet. The internal playback of Cameron’s cries have faded to a low hum of nonsense sounds, drowned out slightly by the car radio, but Harry can still feel the sting on his cheek like the second it happened. Turning up the music will never help that.

 

Louis closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. His couch is warm because he’s been sitting on it so long, and he wonders if he could get away with a quick snooze before Niall comes home. His eyes need a break from staring at a computer screen, and he’s a little sore from hunching over the small laptop, craning his neck as though it’ll help him get any of the words right. 

He scrunches his nose and wonders if he’s being stupid. No one’s ever going to read it anyway. Why does he care so much about getting this right when the only audience he has is himself. There’s no way he’d let the lads read it. It’s embarrassing. He’ll let Lottie read it, but first it has to be perfect. She can only see it in its final draft, and at this rate he’s not sure it’ll ever see the light of day. 

All he knows is that it’s time to try. He’s gotten by the last few years by pretending he doesn’t give a fuck, and that’s not good enough anymore. He gives too many fucks, and that’s made it hard to try anything at all. He’s so afraid of failing. So afraid that all he’ll ever be is the coffee bitch that thought he could be something else. Something better.

He’s been feeling guilty, is the thing. Since he saw Lottie and since they talked about Harry and about everything. He’s been thinking about all the advice he’s been dishing out and all the advice he’s received and ignored. He recalls that day in book club when he admitted to knowing the cruelty of this world more than mercy or love. And maybe it was time to create some of his own mercy. He gave himself some grace and sat his ass down to write something. 

He’s decided to try writing a story. Something small and simple. His mind’s been stuck on Lottie and their conversation about that damn doorstep and he’s got these small images of a very beautiful butterfly, feeding off the sunlight through her solitary window. Through an afternoon of writing,  this small image has turned into a more concrete one. There’s pieces missing, but for the first time in a long time, Louis feels like he’s accomplishing something. 

It feels less like a short story and more like a little ditty. He finds himself trying to make bits of it rhyme. It feels like it should be accompanied with some bright and colorful pictures to match his larger-than-life story. He only realizes about halfway through that what he’s actually writing is a children’s book. 

It feels silly. Like maybe he shouldn’t be so proud of it. It’s probably more embarrassing than that time he was caught reading poetry under a tree, but it’s precisely the sort of thing he needs in his life right now. Something new to try. A way to get all these ideas out of his head that feels like maybe it  _ is _ meant for someone else. It feels good. It feels productive. 

It feels like a beginning. 

  
  


The first day, Harry doesn’t really want to see anyone. When the morning light comes through Liam’s living room window, he wakes, but he doesn’t move. He stays curled up in the heavy blanket Liam had given him, and tries to keep his eyes shut.

Harry still doesn’t move when Liam is up and sparing no noise. He still hasn’t said a word when he watches Liam pick up Harry’s phone. Liam scrolls a little while, and Harry observes indifferently as Liam makes a call. Harry covers his face with the blankets, and between that and a general unsettledness he feels like he’s submerged underwater. He can’t breathe right, and he tries his best to focus on counting and breathing until he feels Liam remove the blanket from his head. 

“You’re cleared from work a while. Think Tuesday will be tolerable?” 

Harry takes another deep breath and holds it longer than he’d meant to. He nods on an exhale. 

Liam disappears, and Harry tries to find something around him to root him in one place. He feels dizzy, and anxious, and he wonders if this was a mistake. He wonders if he should go to Cameron right now and apologize for causing him to react that way. Maybe this whole thing was his fault.

When Liam returns moments later, he takes a seat on the floor by Harry’s feet. Harry squeezes his eyes shut tight and reminds himself why he’s here. He reminds himself it wasn’t his fault. And that even if it was, he didn’t deserve to be…

He stops thinking. He pictures the word in his head and imagines it fading away to darkness. Liam remains at his feet, where he eats his breakfast in silence. Probably completely unaware of the battle Harry’s experiencing. It’s silent for a long time, but Harry doesn’t really want to make conversation. 

What he does want is to know if it’s okay that he’s here. He doesn’t want to be in Liam’s way. 

“Do you work today?” Harry asks, his words slightly muffled by the blanket pulled up to his nose.

Liam shakes his head. “Nope. I’m off today.”

Harry bites at his bottom lip, afraid to ask. He wants to give Liam the space he needs, but he also doesn’t have many other options. He can’t go home.

“Do you want me to…”

“Harry, I want you to do whatever you’d like. Do you want me to stick around today or leave you alone?”

Harry feels awash with relief and a twinge of guilt. “It’s your place. Do you want me to leave?”

“Don’t be daft, the last thing I want is for you to leave.” Liam reaches for Harry’s ankle and gives it a squeeze. “What do you need?”

“I don’t really know. I just kind of want to lay here.”

“Want me to turn on the tv?”

“Not really.”

“Want a book?”

“No,” Harry sighs. “Can’t really focus.”

Liam nods. “Alright. Let me know if you want to talk or anything, okay?”

Harry is silent, but he tilts his head to look Liam in the eyes and hopes that Liam will understand. He doesn’t know how soon he’ll be able to explain anything.

“If you don’t eat something in the next hour we’ll be chatting. Got that?”

And the first day is just like that. It’s like he’s recovering from a hard won war. And maybe winning was the hardest part, because it’s really over. But now he’s left to mourn the casualties.

Harry goes to the bathroom eventually. He sits up to eat the food Liam’s brought him, too tired to argue, even though he’s almost positive he’ll throw it up later. In between all of these minor events, he finds himself dozing. He’s been exhausted for longer than he can remember but every time he wakes up he feels more tired than he did before.

The second day is much like the first. Harry gets up to use the bathroom, and to thank Liam for fixing him food, but other than those brief instances, he stays curled up in his blanket and stares at the wall. He turns on the TV eventually because he can’t really take the silence, but nothing keeps his attention for longer than a few seconds. He pulls out his phone occasionally but is brutally reminded of an order he has to cancel. He had planned on wearing a new suit to the courthouse. He leaves his e-mail for Facebook and that’s no better. It’s been so long since he’s checked it, he forgot about all of these people he used to know and see. It’s like looking into an orb of what could have been his life, or what was, or something. He tries not to think too hard after that. 

On Sunday, Liam has to work. He’s up early, much quieter about his business than he’d been the last couple of days. Harry almost sits up to talk to him, but he’d rather Liam think he’s asleep. Otherwise he’ll ask if he’s slept at all and there’s no reason to worry him knowing he’s been awake since two. It’s not Liam’s fault, after all. His couch is perfectly comfortable. He just doesn’t want to revisit the dream he had. Doesn’t want to think about the pleas and cries, and the sudden sound of broken glass before Harry had taken a plunge, jumping abruptly into the nearest abyss to escape. He’d startled awake,  just before he’d landed, with a hand against his tear-wet cheek.

Once Harry hears the sound of the door locking, he picks himself up just enough to sit upright. He rubs his eyes and sighs, pulling his knees into his chest. He wants to sleep, but he isn’t sure how to avoid having a similar dream. He also wants to go home, but he can’t. He wants to pretend everything’s alright and curl up with a book, knowing that actually might help him sleep, but he doesn’t feel like he should be allowed to enjoy anything.

When he realizes he’s punishing himself, he brings himself to his feet and walks to the bathroom. His body aches from lying down too long and his head spins a little from standing too quickly. Once he reaches the bathroom he avoids gazing into the mirror and turns for the toilet.               

He almost wishes that it wasn’t Sunday so he could make his way to the library. He feels like a day of sorting books might be just distracting enough to get him through this dreaded day. He doesn’t know how many days in a row he can get away with staying huddled up on Liam’s couch to sulk. He doesn’t even really want to sulk, he just doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t forgive himself enough to relax, but he doesn’t do well sitting still and staring at the wall. He’s looked at everything on instagram at least twice now, and he’s afraid to sleep. In this moment, for whatever reason, existing is the most frustrating thing he could ask himself to do.

Before he gets carried off into a more dangerous realm of thought, Harry decides to take a shower. He doesn’t need to look at himself to know that he needs one.

It’s Sunday afternoon when Liam walks in the door and sits on top of Harry’s feet where he lies.

“Oh good, you showered.”

“Sorry if I smelled,” Harry says, still staring blankly.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m just glad to see you still know how to take care of yourself.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, just don’t much feel like it.”

“Do you feel like much of anything?” His words are careful, and his question sincere.

“I feel like I should. I just don’t… want to, or like, know how I guess?”

“Have you forgotten how to read?” Liam smiles, poking Harry’s leg playfully.

Liam might be the only person who can tease Harry right now. It feels familiar and comforting in a way he hadn’t noticed he’s missed. “No , I just… don’t know how to relax. Like I don’t feel like reading because I can’t stop thinking about how awful I feel.”

“That’s not a good way to start feeling better, Haz,” Liam returns. “I don’t want to rush you. You were with Cameron for a long ass time, so you deserve the time you need to mourn. And like, everyone’s different, so it’s okay that you’re not okay. But you do have to go back to work on Tuesday, so if there’s anything I can do to help you feel up for, like, something other than staring at every surface of my flat, then say so. You could help me cook tonight? We could watch a movie? Anything?”

“I think I’d like that. What you just said.”

Liam smiles. “Great. Do you want to do something now? Go for a walk? Or want me to grab you a book?”

Harry nods, and decides maybe a book would be okay. It’s becoming clear to Harry that he’s never had a problem with  _ not _ being okay. What he needs to learn is that he’s allowed to be okay, too. So he accepts a book, some old Steinbeck he remembers leaving at Liam’s flat ages ago, and somewhere in the first chapter, he falls asleep.

When he wakes, he’s nearly forgotten where he is. The book rests open on his chest and he hears some clanking sound from the kitchen — Liam, getting ready to cook dinner. An odd twinge of something hits Harry when he realizes where he’d thought he’d been. For a split second, he expected to hear Louis’ soft voice asking him if he needs anything. There’s a flicker of disappointed, followed by a pang of guilt. 

He sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes before stretching his sore limbs. He’s still tired, but he figures he should probably save it for later if it’s possible. He stands up and walks to the kitchen, pushing his hair back artfully and is surprised to see Zayn sitting at the kitchen table.

Zayn waves, smile shy and a touch apologetic. Liam comes back around the corner and starts at the sight of Harry.

“Hey, Haz. Did we wake you?”

Harry shakes his head and lies, “No, you’re fine.”

“Zayn totally surprised me. I had no idea he was coming, I swear.” Liam sounds horribly sorry.

“Liam, it’s fine. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to see your boyfriend.” He turns to Zayn. “Sorry if I’ve kept you out the last few days.”

Zayn smiles. “Nah, I had a crazy assignment that kept me busy. I didn’t know you were here, or I’d have called first.”

“You shouldn’t really have to, anyway. I’m just here, so don’t mind me.”

Harry’s about to make his way back to the living room when Liam pats his shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, my book is just in there.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll just leave you two…”

Liam shakes his head. “No. I made plans with you. Zayn’s just here.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows. “But—“

“But nothing. We want you to hang out. Right, Zayn?”

“Don’t mind me,” Zayn chuckles.

Harry grins, face down while Liam pats his shoulder affectionately.

“So, what are we cooking?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you make it through okay? <3  
> I hope you did. And I hope in some way or another you enjoyed this even if it was hard at at times. I know I definitely had a hard time writing andediting it.
> 
> I'd like to take a second to remind you all that if you have experienced a situation similar to Harry's you are not alone. <3 I love you and I hope you're not afraid to ask for help. There's no shame in that. Ever.  
> I also hope that if any of this sits with you in an unsettling way, you will come and talk to me. I don't ever want to misrepresent this situation in a way that hurts other people. 
> 
> Also thank you again to everyone who has left comments and kudos so far. I hope you know just how much I appreciate them in writing a story like this. You're all too good for this world. <3  
> Here is my [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) if you want to come talk to me about anything or just follow my shenanigans.
> 
> See you next time. <3 (which.... might be the last chapter. Maybe. We'll see how editing goes. :P)


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! 
> 
> Happy Tuesday, friends! I'm back much sooner than expected with an update for you. Turns out you can expect one more update from me after today. Which is... weird. I'm a little emo about it. ANYWAY. 
> 
> Thank you to [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com) and [Elena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah) for all your help and advice. You're the best betas and friends a girl could ask for. <3

Louis doesn’t know how long he’s been spaced out for, or what prompted him to completely check out of his physical surroundings, but the sound of approaching footsteps — dress shoes against the hardwood floors — is enough to remind him where he is. He sits up straighter in his chair and tries to look busy. He clicks his mouse so his monitor comes to life and closes Facebook quickly so no one can see how actively distracted he’s been. 

“Hey, Louis,” says a voice from behind him. Louis spins around in his seat and is actually a little shocked to see Cameron leaning against the wall of the tiny cubicle. 

“Hey,” he replies, a few seconds too late. “What’s up?” 

“Just wondering if you were up for a coffee run today?” Cameron asks. It’s then that Louis figuratively picks his jaw up off the floor and notices Cameron’s demeanor. He looks tired, exhausted really. It looks like he loosened his tie at lunch and forgot to fix it when he came back. His hair is dishevelled, probably because he keeps running his hand through it — he’s done it at least three times since his approach. No wonder he wants a coffee.

“Sorry, Cameron, I’ve uh. I’ve got an assignment for today,” Louis lies. He’s created his own assignment, hoping to inspire Simon to give him a real job. Otherwise, he’s quite literally been spaced out for who knows how long and could use the walk. But not at the cost of doing Cameron’s bidding.

“Oh,” Cameron breathes. “Well. Okay.” 

“I think the Kuerig is working just fine, though. I’m sure there’s something suitable in the breakroom.”  

Louis’ heard first hand how much Cameron hates Kuerig coffee. At this point he’s probably being unreasonably mean. But maybe Cameron’s tired because he deserves to be. Louis secretly hopes he’s awake at night thinking of all the ways he’s mistreated Harry. Though he knows that’s not likely. He hasn’t heard a word from Harry in over a week. 

Cameron leaves, and Louis sinks back into his chair. Louis taps his hand against the desk, and slowly brings his phone closer. It sits. No buzz. Nothing. He knows this isn’t likely to change, and yet, he continues to stare, hoping, waiting to hear from anyone at all. He and Harry had texted a little in the first few days that Cameron was back, but it had quickly transitioned into silence. Louis thinks about the last time he’d seen Harry, and how tight his arms were wrapped around Harry’s waist and how Harry had fit so well there and made promises to keep Louis in his life. He places a hand to his cheek and remembers with searing clarity the moment Harry had said goodbye only minutes after those promises. He knows Cameron is intimidating. He’s his coffee bitch, after all. It shouldn’t be surprising that Harry didn’t follow through with inviting Louis over. Really, it isn’t surprising. It  _ is _ disappointing.

Louis just misses him.

Louis adjusts the height of his chair and wills himself to focus on the paperwork he was  _ actually _ assigned for today. He’s so bored. Bored of this life, and these people, and this paperwork, and he really misses Harry. And Lottie. And Liam and Zayn and Niall. He hasn’t been alone, per se, but once he’d returned from his brief visit to Doncaster, he’d come to realize that he wasn’t really returning to anything.

He loves his friends, but they’re all so busy. Writing has helped. But Louis is far too social to depend on writing to keep him entertained. 

So Louis does what he always does and sends a text message to literally anyone who will listen. He just needs some attention. He wants someone to care. His friends can stop thinking about their own business long enough to care for a few minutes, right? Besides, maybe one of them will want to hang out with him after he’s off work.

He texts Zayn first and asks him if he’s ever received exceptional marks simply because he’s so pretty. Then he texts Niall and tells him that he should write some song about Louis’ hair because it looks particularly good this week ( _ not that you would know !!! _ )

Liam gets a series of random emojis because he knows Liam will try very hard to decipher it and the idea is endlessly amusing.

And Harry… well. Louis doesn’t know what to say, so he decides to be honest.

_ I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I sort of miss you taking my favorite spot on my couch. _

Louis sends it before he can talk himself out of it.

He tries to return to work — really, he does. But moments later, he gets a reply from Liam. It’s a series of question marks, which makes Louis laugh out loud.

He covers his own mouth in surprise and sets his phone aside. He should try to look busy. Really, he should look for a new job or something. He’d have to be discreet. But the amount of time he’s wasted at this one could’ve resulted in a finished manuscript by now or at the very least a higher paying gig.

Louis sighs, resigned to stop wasting time when his phone buzzes again. It could be just anyone, but Louis has a feeling that it’s not.

He picks up his phone and smiles at the name.

_ You could come take my favorite spot on Liam’s couch? Tonight? x _

Louis can’t help himself at that. He grins so wide it hurts his cheeks when he tries to suppress it. Something bubbles in his belly as he types back.

_ You’d do that for me? :) _

Less than a minute later his phone goes off again.

_ :) of course! Come to Liam’s? _

Louis confirms even faster than Harry had, and pockets his phone. At least now, he has something to look forward to.

His thoughts return briefly to looking for a new job. There’s something about this Monday. About this space, and these sounds, that makes Louis exceptionally tired. He’s exhausted and the worst part is that in the last six hours he hasn’t actually done much of anything. It feels like unearned exhaustion. Like sadness and discontent. It’s overwhelming in a way Louis hasn’t felt in a while. He can envision himself walking out the front door with no turning back. He’s never seen himself causing a scene, or telling Simon off, or anything too dramatic. He just wants to walk out of here for what he knows is the last time.

Shaking it off, he wonders how Harry’s doing. How he’s been since Cameron’s return. He wonders if Harry has really missed him, or if he just invited Louis so he wouldn’t feel bad. That seems like a very Harry thing to do. He tries not to dwell on the possibility, knowing full well that Harry enjoys his company.

He glances at the clock and notes that he’s only got fifteen minutes left. He can see a few of his colleagues packing their bags and making an early escape. He wonders if he could do the same. He wants to go home and freshen up. Get out of these dress pants and maybe even have a quick shower.

He straightens up the sheets of paper on his desk and notes the copies he’s supposed to have made for first thing in the morning. He grabs his phone, and the sheet and makes his way to the copy machine. Glancing at his phone, he’s received a new text from Liam—a clearly intentional string of emojis made up of confetti and happy faces followed by a ‘see you soon.’ Louis smiles and hits a button and lets the copier do its business.

At least Liam and Harry know how to reply to a text message.

When the clock finally strikes five, he makes his way to the door with an extra skip in his step. It’s not the exit he fantasized about earlier, but it’ll do for now.

 

 

When Louis arrives at Liam’s door front, he’s actually sort of nervous. Should he have worn these jeans? Should he have messed with his hair a bit more? Harry’s invitation seemed very low key. Not at all a chance to paint the town red. But maybe Louis should’ve tried to look a little nicer.

He takes a quick breath, trying to push the nerves out. He’s already here, after all. There’s no point in going home and prolonging this any more. And besides that, it’s  _ Harry.  _ And Liam. Nothing to be nervous about. He hits the buzzer for Liam’s apartment and is surprised to hear a different familiar voice speak through the intercom at him.

“What’s the password, Tommo?”

“Zayn?”

“Good guess. That’s probably Liam’s password. What’s mine.”

Louis laughs. “Is it… Louis is my best friend in this world and he has the greatest hair?”

Zayn snorts. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t flattering myself, Zayn. I was assuming you might flatter me.”

“I saw you from the window and your hair doesn’t even look that great today.”

“Oi! Shut up, you!”

“Password?”

Louis sighs. “Fine. Zayn is awesome.”

“That’s not it either, but flattery will get you everywhere, so.”

There’s a buzz and Louis chuckles quietly as he pulls the door open. He walks up the stairs to Liam’s and knocks. Zayn opens the door and Louis laughs.

“I thought I was coming to Liam’s, when did you take over the place?”

Zayn smiles. “If it weren’t for me, Liam would just buzz up anyone who asks. I’m really his new security system. It’s working out nicely.”

“My home is a safe haven, Zayn! I don’t discriminate!” Liam calls from the living room.

Louis can hear Harry’s laugh from the same place and he feels warmer as he follows Zayn inside.

“I’m just saying,” Zayn calls back, “one day it won’t be that poor bloke that keeps forgetting his keys, and you’ll have let in a serial killer. If I ever have to defend you in court, I don’t want to have to admit to my boyfriend being a trusting idiot.”

“See, he says this is for my safety, but really he just doesn’t want to associate with my kind.”

Harry giggles again, bringing a beer to his lips as he looks up at Louis. Louis hopes it isn’t horribly obvious, the way his entire self feels a little taller, and the room feels a little brighter.

“Don’t be too hard on Zayn, Li,” Louis teases. “He’s an arse, but he needs a little more reassurance than the rest of us. Had to tell him he was awesome before he’d even let me in door.” Louis pets Zayn’s shoulder pityingly.

“Yeah well, your hair really doesn’t look that great, so.”

Louis smacks Zayn’s shoulder from where he patted it.

“Harold, can you believe the shit I endure? And to think I’ve called him my best mate all these years.”

Harry’s smile grows exponentially when Louis takes a step in his direction. It’s the greatest of signs really. He really did miss him.

He takes a seat beside Harry and sends a small smile his direction. “I don’t believe this is the seat I was promised.”

Harry sighs, but his smile definitely gives him away. “You can have it later. I just got comfortable.”

Louis rolls his eyes dramatically. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that now, would we?”

“Please don’t,” Harry whines. “This is just fine.”

He takes in the beautiful boy beside him. Harry sits with his back against the arm of the couch, legs tucked under himself and staring fondly in Louis’ direction. It makes it that much harder to pull his own gaze away and back to Liam and Zayn. It shouldn’t be this difficult to look less smitten than the actual couple in the room.

“So what are we up to tonight, lads?”

Zayn shrugs and Louis doesn’t feel like asking what he’s grinning about.

“Mostly this. Harry was going to make dinner, but then he sat down and turned into a lazy kitten. Made me grab him a beer and everything.”

Harry blushes from where he sits. “I made dinner last night and I’m tired. It’s your turn, intruder.”

Zayn laughs out loud. “Oh, now I’m the intruder? I’m the boyfriend, love, only Liam can get rid of me.”

Louis feels a little lost, and maybe a smidge left out. Harry was here last night too? Have they all neglected to invite him for a reason? It feels silly. Like that time in high school he got really sick and couldn’t go to his best mate’s birthday party. They talked about it for weeks, and Louis had to just sit there and hear the stories after the fact, knowing full well you had to be there to get it.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Liam says, and kisses Zayn’s cheek.

Harry grins from beside him, and it makes Louis grin too.

“Doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have to cook dinner,” Harry argues, playfully.

“I don’t think you want him to,” Louis smiles. “He’ll stick something in the oven to bake and fall asleep. Can’t tell you how many times the smoke detector went off in our dorm.”

“Oh, please. You know that at least half of those instances were your fault,” Zayn says, defiant. “This one can’t even heat water for tea. He left a kettle on so long once that the water completely evaporated and burned the bottom of my new teapot.”

Harry squawks and Louis looks at him, too amused to defend himself from Zayn. 

“What is it?” Louis asks, chuckling as Harry tries to stop laughing.

“Remember the lasagna?” Harry asks, trying to collect himself. 

Louis laughs then, because he can’t help it. “I didn’t set off the smoke detector though!”

Zayn rolls his eyes and sets his head on Liam’s shoulder. Louis knows what he’s thinking, but while Harry’s glowing at him like he is, Louis can’t bring himself to care. 

“I could go for pizza,” Liam suggests a moment later. “Anyone else want pizza?”

“If it means I don’t have to get up, I’m game.” Harry smiles.

“I’ll even order it for you,” Zayn goads. “Any special requests?”

“Cheese, please,” Harry says, leaning his side against the back of the couch. He really does look like a kitten and Louis is quite tempted to pet him.

“Liam, where’s your phone?” Zayn calls from the kitchen.

“Just use yours!”

“Mine’s dead and I thought yours was in here.”

“One second,” Liam calls and goes to stand up.

“See, he can’t even order a pizza,” Louis laughs.

“Shut up, Tommo! I heard that!”

Liam laughs on his way to the kitchen to help Zayn and Louis takes this as a golden opportunity to stare in Harry’s direction, unashamedly. He finds Harry’s already looking at him, soft smile on his face. He looks tired.

“Hi,” Louis says, softly.

“Hi,” Harry grins. “You missed me?”

He chuckles. “Yeah… I suppose I did.”

Harry grins wider. “I missed you too.”

Louis grins back. He wants to ask him questions and to know how he’s doing and whether Cam is still being a twat, but he isn’t sure now is the time. But it’s also distressing not knowing if there ever will be a time. He doesn’t want to get to know Harry when his fiancé is away. He wants to know Harry all the time. Any knowledge he can get his hands on would be great. What did he eat for lunch? Did he encounter any interesting people at the library? What was the best sentence he read today?

“I like your hair,” Harry says suddenly.

“What?”

“I like your hair,” Harry says, still resting his head on the couch. “Zayn said it looks stupid, but I like it.”

Louis smiles wider like he can’t help himself. He really can’t. It might be a problem.

“I took a quick shower before I came here. Didn’t do anything to it,” Louis shrugs, “So it probably does look a little stupid.”

“I like it. It looks soft.”

Louis chuckles. “Wanna touch it?”

Harry dimples so hard, Louis wants to stick something in it to see if it’d stay lodged in his cheek. He’s so amused by the idea, he’s delayed in realizing Harry’s nodded.

“Can I?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows for a moment, but smiles, recovering quickly. Though not so quickly that Harry doesn’t have time to second guess his request.

“Sorry, is that weird?”

Louis shakes his head. “Only as weird as you want it to be.”

That didn’t do anything to soothe Harry.

“You should probably just tell me if it’s weird. My brain’s not really working properly.”

Louis laughs and shrugs awkwardly. “I don’t think it’s weird.”

Harry shrugs back, a fraction of dimple returning as he motions for Louis to lean forward.

Harry delicately brings his hand out and puts his fingertips to Louis’ forehead, just pushing his fringe to the side. He  moves them back to his scalp and rubs lightly before he pulls back, hesitating. He brings his head back up and smiles genuinely at Harry, who seems a little insecure, but pleased nonetheless. Despite their growing familiarity, Louis is still at a loss for the going ons in Harry’s mind. He was probably right about it being weird.

“So, how’s the library?” Louis swerves.

Harry shrugs. “It’s the library. I actually haven’t been to work for a while.”

“A while? How do you mean?”

“Been off since Thursday. I go back tomorrow.”

“Had yourself a little holiday?” Louis smirks. “Good for you. You should’ve hit me up for lunch or something.”

Harry smiles, but doesn’t meet Louis’ eyes.

“It’s okay that you didn’t though,” Louis amends. “Call me, I mean. I get it.”

Harry adjusts his line of sight just enough to meet Louis’ gaze. He bites his lower lip. “I appreciate that. But um, I am sorry, I didn’t call you. I had some stuff I needed to sort out.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah. I, uh. Well.” Harry huffs like he’s frustrated, and Louis reaches for his knee on instinct. Louis notices Harry casting a glance back at the kitchen, and he wonders if Louis just needs to wait until they’re alone. Harry looks back at him and purses his lips. 

“We don’t have to talk about it now, yeah?” Louis offers. “Or at all. I want to know how you’re doing and if you’d had a chance to talk to him, but you don’t owe me anything. I get it if you’re not ready. ”

Harry exhales, relieved. “Can we talk though? Like, later?” Harry pauses. “We could go for a walk or something? I just kind of want it to be us.” 

“‘Course we can.  Unless you have to go home soon?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, erm, I’m good.” 

Louis wonders for a moment if this means their conversation went well. His heart betrays him a little and sinks at the thought, but Harry seems better today. More at ease. So Louis smiles, “Good.  I really did miss you so you won’t be getting rid of me so easily tonight.”

Harry’s grin slowly returns to its initial size. “Good.”

Liam returns moments later, dragging Zayn behind him by the hand. Liam takes his previous place on the recliner, but Zayn opts for the spot beside Louis. Liam pouts, but Zayn shrugs and places an arm around Louis’ shoulder. “I see you all the time. Lemme coddle Lou for a bit.”

“I don’t know if I’m up for coddling, but I have missed you.”

“Nonsense, you always need coddling. Have you found a new job yet?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t Zayn.”

“And why is that?”

Louis decides against sharing the new buzzing in his brain — the thought of a new job, a new life, a new anything at all. “I don’t know, Zayn, maybe because there’s not much else for me to do in the first place.”

“You could go back to school!”

Louis laughs. “And study what?”

“You could be a teacher,” Harry says from the other side.

Zayn raises his eyebrows, throwing a gesture in Harry’s direction. “See? You have options!”

Louis peers at Harry, curious. “Why do you say that?”

Harry shrugs. “You’re patient and kind and perceptive. I think you’d be great.”

Louis’ cheeks feel warm and Zayn pokes his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t know about that, but thank you,” Louis replies. 

Harry shakes his head. “Honestly Lou, you could do whatever you wanted. You’re so smart.”

Louis, for once, feels awkward having all eyes on him—likely because he didn’t prompt it himself.

“What he said,” Zayn says. “You could decide to go into something terribly random and you’d be good at it.”

“I did pick something though, it just hasn’t really panned out. Like, I studied English and writing because I wanted to be a writer and instead I make copies and send faxes and do the coffee run. I don’t know how it would go any differently if I just… decided to go back to school.”

Zayn shrugs, “I think this hasn’t panned out because you didn’t want it enough to work your way up. You need to go for something you really want to do.”

“That requires me to know exactly what I want to do,” Louis laughs. “Which is precisely the problem. So can we discuss something else? How’s being successful?”

Zayn cuddles closer to Louis and gives him a playful nudge. “I pry because I care.”

“I know you do. Thank you for caring. Now onto more interesting things. Who’s the most ridiculous client you’ve observed recently?”

Zayn chuckles. “I mean, there was this one guy today at my articling job who kept misusing the term ‘allegedly.’ He used it and ‘literally’ interchangeably. It was painful to listen to.”

Liam chuckles. “I plan to misuse it daily because of how red in the face Zayn gets.”

Louis beams in his direction and agrees to do the same. Zayn groans from his seat.

“It was terrible! I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to embarrass him, but if he ends up going to court then someone is going to have such an awkward conversation with him.”

Louis giggles, with his palm over his mouth. “Amazing.”

Zayn shakes his head. “I don’t know how Liam deals with it. He comes across a lot of idiots in his day. I’m lucky enough to mostly avoid them. If I had to deal with people like that all the time, I’d be fired for misconduct.”

Liam waves a hand dismissively. “I only have to deal with idiots for five minutes at a time.”

The pizza arrives briefly after that, and they eat quietly, watching some rerun of a football game on the TV. Zayn and Liam are engaging in their own private discussion of whether or not they should get breakfast together tomorrow. It seems Liam doesn’t work till later in the morning than usual, so he insists they do. Zayn argues that Liam should take advantage of a morning to sleep in like a normal human. It’s cute and domestic and makes Louis want to gag a little bit.

He glances at Harry, and sees his eyes trained mostly on the plate balancing on top of his knees, silently chewing. He hears a suspicious sound and realizes that Harry’s not actually looking at his plate. He smiles— _ that’s _ why he’s been so quiet, his gaze so intent. Louis reaches out slowly. He taps his leg and Harry’s head shoots up.

“Good book, then?” Louis teases.

Harry blushes, lifting his right shoulder. “S’alright.”

“Just alright?”

Harry sighs. “I don’t have any other books with me so it’ll do.”

Louis chuckles. “Are we not entertaining enough for you tonight?”

Harry glances at Zayn and Liam, still engulfed in their little bubble.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just a little used to this. They get to talking so instead of interrupting I just read.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “Have you guys been hanging out a lot lately?”

“Just been around I guess,” Harry says. It’s clear that he’s trying to make it sound nonchalant, and Louis tries not to get back onto one of his former trains of thought. He’s sure he would’ve been invited. They probably were just… all around, like Harry said. He shouldn’t think about it too much.

“Shit, I forgot,” He hears Liam say, louder than he’d been a moment ago.

“You alright, Li?” Louis asks, amused.

“Yeah, I just completely forgot that I was meant to, erm, go grocery shopping tonight. I won’t have time tomorrow with work so. Damn, I really should’ve remembered.”

For what feels like the millionth time, Louis thinks he’s missing something, but he’s not really sure what it is. Zayn chuckles and shakes his head. “I can go with you, babe. Did you need a lot?”

Liam nods. “Yeah, I can’t believe I forgot. We should go now. You two okay here on your own?”

Harry looks fairly amused and Louis genuinely has no idea what he’s missing here.

“Liam, why don’t you just go some other night? Or in the morning?” Louis asks. 

“No, I really should just go now. They’ve got this thing, and it’s one sale and I just… I gotta go.” Liam replies hurriedly. He nearly trips himself putting on his own shoes. 

Louis stares, bemused. “Well then, have fun?”

“We will! See you later, lads!” Zayn says quickly, grabbing Liam by the hand.

Liam waves, following Zayn and moving fast to avoid being hit by the door on the way out.

Louis looks to Harry almost immediately. “What was that nonsense about?”

“They’re probably going to fuck in Zayn’s car,” Harry says, rolling his eyes.

Louis barks a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, Zayn’s been here the last couple days and I haven’t heard anything so they’re probably just frisky.”

Louis shakes his head, still chuckling, and shrugs. “They could’ve just asked us to leave.”

“Nah, Liam wouldn’t do that.” Harry huffs a small laugh. “I’ve even offered.” 

They’re quiet for a minute, Louis still laughing occasionally. He hasn’t seen Zayn so eager to leave with someone since uni—and with Liam, no less. It’s amusing, to say the least.

After a moment, Harry stands and asks if Louis’ done with his plate. Louis nods and Harry takes it to the kitchen. Louis watches him tidy up from the couch, and when Harry looks back at him, he smiles. Harry smiles back and resumes his work, putting used napkins in the trash, and gently wiping the counter of any spilled beer or sauce.

“Harry, hang out with me.”

“I am,” Harry laughs.

“No you’re not, you’re cleaning Liam’s flat.”

“I’m almost done, just a minute.”

He finishes up and returns from the kitchen with two beers. Louis thanks him as he accepts one and smiles fondly as Harry plops down into the place he was before. He sits just as he had, with his back to the arm of the couch, facing Louis. Louis shifts so that he’s facing Harry, and they both smile for a moment, taking turns with the bottle opener on the coffee table.

“You’re a great host,” Louis laughs. “Better than Liam apparently.”

“They just need their space like any normal couple does sometimes.”

“Oh, to be young and in love and incapable of waiting a couple more hours for a good fuck.”

Harry laughs loudly at that and Louis eats it up. It’s still his favorite sound. 

They’re quiet another moment after that. Louis wants to ask Harry how he’s doing, but he doesn’t know if Harry wants to talk about anything. He hates tiptoeing on this strange line where he knows he’s allowed to cross, but only at specific times under certain circumstances. It’s a delicate balance and the last thing Louis wants is to break it.

“So, how are you?” Harry asks, sipping his beer.

“I’m alright. Just working. Took a quick trip to Doncaster last week, spent the weekend wondering what I’m doing with me life, and went back to the daily grind today. Life’s weird.”

“What’s in Doncaster?”

“Home,” Louis smiles. “Turns out, Lottie took a trip there without telling me. I was all worried when she wasn’t at book club, so I called mum and she told me Lottie was there.”

“Is she okay?” Harry asks, concerned.

“She’s great, actually. Just needed to get away for a minute.”

Harry nods. “I can understand that.”

“Yeah, I was all worried for nothing. Turns out my sister is a smartass who doesn’t always need my advice anymore.”

Harry smiles, leaning against the back of the couch. “I’m sure she still needs it sometimes. I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Me too,” Louis says. “Gave me a real scare, disappearing like that. I told her she doesn’t always have to come to me anymore, but I would like a little notice if she decides to skip town. A brother worries.”

Harry chuckles. “Understandably so.”

Louis pauses a moment. He wants to ask about all the time Harry’s been spending here. He wonders if he’s got some new freedom, but only in certain spaces. 

“Can I ask a really silly question?”

Harry nods, his eyes locked on Louis’ face, focused.

“This is probably stupid, but you um. Well, you never called me… and I get why. I really do. You’re not obligated to hang out with me like, ever. But… did I maybe do something? Because I really missed you guys. All of you, and I didn’t know you guys were hanging out? Is that stupid of me to wonder? Like… why I wasn’t invited?”

Harry’s eyes keep getting wider with every question asked. By the time Louis finishes, Harry’s shaking his head back and forth vigorously.

“No, no, no, Lou. You’re always invited,” Harry starts, huffing a little, like the way he had the last time Louis asked him an uncomfortable question. 

“It’s okay if I wasn’t though, honestly,” Louis says, quickly. “I just didn’t know if I’d done something wrong?”

Harry shakes his head again, his eyes sad. “Definitely not. No. I’m sorry, Louis.”

He pauses. Louis watches the way Harry looks down and fiddles with the rings on his fingers.

“Lou, I’m so sorry you felt like that. We’ve been hanging out because, erm,” Harry sighs. “Well. I am, uh… living here. Currently.”

“Currently as in… temporarily? Are you alright?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, I swear. It’s not really easy to, um, talk about.”

Louis goes to interrupt, to reassure, to let Harry know he doesn’t have to, regardless of the way his own head is spinning. He wants to know, but he won’t sacrifice Harry’s well being for the knowledge.

“I want to. Tell you. And maybe I’ll tell you the whole story sometime, but,” Harry pauses. “I can’t really. Um. Details are hard. Just. Cam and I are done. It’s finished.”

Louis’ face falls. He hadn’t imagined it hurting quite this much, to be honest. During his weakest moments, he’d imagined what it would be like to hear about Harry and Cameron breaking up. He’d imagined he might have trouble not jumping for joy—on Harry’s behalf, obviously, but also maybe a teeny tiny bit for himself. He’d imagined working hard to maintain a straight face and forcing an apology all the while feeling so much glee because justice has been served. Cameron never has and never will deserve this wonderful boy.

Instead he counts the amount of times Harry stammers to get through the sentence. He notes the way all of his nervous habits increase, fiddling with his rings, occasionally running a hand through his hair, eyes down, and biting his lower lip. He imagines the hurt stewing in that lovely brain. He can actually see the ache that must be living with all the wonderful things in that head of his—drenching his favorite words and memories with shadows and a new weight that wasn’t there before. If things with Cameron ended, Louis doesn’t really want to imagine what Harry must have endured to finally cross the line — to finally see the situation as it was and walk away from it.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he says, and he means it. He’s sorry for Harry’s pain. He’s sorry for having wished for it, though Harry doesn’t know that.

“S’okay,” Harry says. “Really, it is. I knew it would be hard, and it was harder than how I’d imagined it, but I know that it’s for the best.”

“So you’re staying here?”

“Yeah, this was my only option. My family doesn’t know or anything, and I didn’t really feel like hashing out the whole story to them in one swoop on the phone. Plus they live a little ways away. It isn’t as close to my work or to Liam or to you and the lads and… I didn’t want to leave Manchester.”

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?” He knows he probably wouldn’t have accepted Liam’s bed even if he’d offered.

“Yeah, it’s been fine. I do feel a little like I’m intruding,” Harry admits. “But I knew Liam would answer the phone and I knew he wouldn’t ask me to find somewhere else to stay and I really can’t ask for much more than that. He’s really the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Liam’s a keeper, for sure,” Louis agrees. “If you ever need a change of scenery feel free to come to mine.” 

He tries not to sound nervous at the suggestion. He doesn’t want to seem presumptuous. Louis is still relatively new to Harry’s life. It makes sense that he’d have called Liam. Louis just wants to be sure that Harry knows he has options. Other people care about him. A lot.

Harry smiles, small and timid. “Thanks, Lou. I might take you up on it, to be honest. This is the second time today Liam and Zayn have gone on some ‘emergency errand,’” he air quotes, “This morning Zayn said he lost his hair brush, and told Liam they had to go get him a new one. I told him he could borrow mine, but he said something about wanting to look for his first and he practically pulled Liam out the door. Obviously they weren’t going to find it in the hallway and when they came back Zayn’s hair was worse off so. Science. Whatever. I feel bad that they don’t have as much privacy.”

“Of course! Niall and I love having you around. And Niall and I definitely don’t have any emergency errands to get to. Our lives are miraculously mundane, so.”

Harry laughs, and it feels like they’ve turned the page.

Louis doesn’t stay over that night. He doesn’t really have the option, with Liam’s couch occupied. He does nearly convince Harry to come home with him, but Harry mentions going back to work and, stopping by his flat in the afternoon to pick up a few things, and Louis understands. Liam probably needs to be there for that one.

 

The very next day, Louis receives a text from Harry. 

_ Can you come to the library?  _

Louis frowns, wondering if everything is alright. It’s mid-afternoon and he technically has another hour of work left. Another glance at his phone and Harry’s texted again. 

_ Now? _

Louis decides he’ll come in early tomorrow. He’s sure Simon won’t even notice. 

_ On my way ! _

Louis isn’t sure what to expect, but it isn’t a very pretty sight. Well, it is. Harry is always pretty. Louis just really doesn’t like to see him cry.

When Louis finds him, having received directions from Marge, he’s hidden behind a stack of books. Harry looks up quickly and wipes his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Louis doesn’t hesitate to approach.. He leans beside the stool Harry’s sat on. He tells him it’s fine and pets his hair and asks him what’s wrong.

“I, uhm, went to my flat today on my lunch break,” Harry sniffles.

“He wasn’t there, was he?”

“No,” Harry says. “No, he wasn’t. It was just harder than I thought it’d be. And, um.”

“Did you get your things?” Louis asks, softly. 

Harry shakes his head.

“What happened, love?” The pet name slips, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I did. I mean. I got some more clothes and stuff, but my—” he stops, and wipes furiously at his eyes again just as the tears start to reappear. Louis gently grabs his wrist and places Harry’s hand in his. Harry doesn’t fight it. Tears drip off his chin and spot his jeans.

“My books were gone.”

Louis releases the tiniest breath. There’s nothing comforting to say to that. He can’t tell Harry that it’s okay. That is absolutely not okay. Behind that tiniest breath, Louis feels a seething rage.

“I’m so sorry, Lou... But I lost  _ Hard Times. _ ” Harry’s eyes fill up and tear after tear falls down his cheek as he cries, a little harder even than when Louis found him. 

“Oh Haz, it’s okay,” Louis soothes. “That wasn’t even my copy.”

“I thought I’d borrowed it from you,” Harry says, confused.

Louis shakes his head. “No, I helped you pick it out. But I think it was from right in here.”

Harry lets out another distressed cry at that. “God, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not an idiot.” Louis, remembering that Harry’s hand is in his, rubs his thumb softly against Harry’s knuckles. “It’s really okay. I’m glad you texted.” 

“No, no, no,” Louis hushes. “Not at all. Can I help you at all? What needs to be done back here, let’s do it together. When are you off?”

Harry shudders through a deep breath and clears his throat, using his free hand to wipe his tears again. “I’m off at six.”

“Well, that’s a ways off, so let’s finish this up and see if you can get out early, yeah? We can go to a thrift store and find you new books.”

“I don’t even have anywhere to put them, Lou. I shouldn’t buy books.”

“We’ll just buy your favorites. We’ll find some old cheap copies and be sure you have just your favorites for now, okay?”

Harry shudders again and nods before whispering, “Okay.”

Louis tries his best to remain neutral in their current space. He wants nothing more than to track Cameron down and punch him in the face. He’d settle for saying nasty shit about him, but he’s not sure that would help. He wonders if Cameron really threw the books out or if he just put them away. He understands why Harry would assume they’re gone. There were way too many for them all to be that well hidden. 

Louis can’t say he blames him though. It’s probably the worst thing a person could ever do to Harry. But he’s not sure he could stand the look of them either. If he’d lost someone as wonderful as Harry, he’d want to be rid of the reminders. He’s just not sure he could destroy them when it comes so close to destroying Harry himself. 

They stack books in silence, Harry standing on a ladder to put the last few on the top shelf. Louis looks up at him and watches him concentrate on the numbers and letters on each book spine, wondering how it all works and how long it took Harry to master it. Probably not long at all.

Harry places the last book on the shelf and looks down. Louis knows he’s been caught staring. Luckily Harry doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, there’s a gleam in his eye. Maybe from the tears, but Louis knows that gleam and he feels a small victory.

Louis watches Harry go behind the front desk, gently tap the older woman on the shoulder. He doesn’t know the details of their exchange, but he does take a moment to appreciate the fondness they have for one another. Marge smiles like a concerned mother and Harry pulls her into the tightest hug Louis’ ever seen. No wonder Harry would give everything he has to stay here. He’s surrounded by love in all his favorite forms.

“Are you hungry?” Louis asks on their way out.

“Not really,” Harry frowns. “Are you?”

Louis shakes his head. “Thrift store, then?”

Harry shrugs noncommittally. Louis grabs his hand and squeezes.

They walk silently, Harry trailing just slightly behind Louis. They find themselves at a thrift store just a few blocks away. They walk inside and dawdle a bit, pausing to have a laugh at a few particularly absurd pieces of clothing. Harry smiles when Louis puts on a fur coat. Louis applauds a pair of crocs that look as big as his own face. They enjoy each other’s company and all the normal thrift shop nonsense.

When they make their way to the books, the tentative laughs and happy sighs subside for a moment. Harry brings his fingertips to the tops of the books on the rack, flipping through pages with one swoop of his finger. He looks dangerously on the verge of tears again, so Louis acts before he can really think about it.

He picks up some old tattered novel and begins reading the back cover aloud.

“The Duke of… Jervaulx… was brilliant and dangerous,’” he begins, “‘Considered dissolute, reckless, and extravagant, he was transparently referred to as the ‘D of J’ in scandal sheets, where he and his various exploits’,” he waggles his eyebrows, “‘featured with frequency.’”

“Is this a romance novel?” Harry asks, confused. “Are you actually suggesting a romance novel to me right now?”

Louis shushes him and continues. “‘But sometimes the most womanizing rake can be irresistible, and even his most casual attentions fascinated the sheltered Maddy Timms, quiet daughter of a simple mathematician.’”

Harry laughs and shakes his head.

“What? This is one of your favorites, isn’t it?” Louis asks. Harry keeps his eyes low, but Louis can see he’s laughing softly.

“Can’t say I’ve read that one, no.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You’ve read everything!”

“I stay away from the harlequin romances,” Harry giggles. “Everything else, sure.”

“Afraid you’ll get addicted? Happens to the best of us,” Louis teases, relieved to see the glee in Harry’s eyes.

“Are  _ you _ addicted to them, Lou? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“I think they’re highly underrated! Why do you think I was disappointed when Grimshaw handed out Wordsworth the first day?”

Harry barks a laugh at that and picks up a different title.

“‘Love is found in the strangest places…’” he starts.

“Riveting so far, do go on,” Louis encourages.

Harry giggles. “‘Alexis and Jordan are an incredibly happy couple with great careers and a sex life that would put anyone else's to shame.’” He pauses, glancing up at Louis, who’s smirking at him. “‘Passionate, creative lovemaking is a regular activity for the two happy lovers when they aren't cooking and kicking back in their gorgeous home, enjoying the flames of an unbeatable romance.’”

Harry stops reading, chuckling softly.

“Go on then! It was just getting good,” Louis teases.

Harry rolls his eyes, but continues. “‘But lately, Jordan has experienced the need for something more, a missing element in his emotional life as well as his sexuality. Alexis has sensed the shift too, and she wants to do everything in her power to help infuse their relationship with a new dimension of spice as well as companionship.

“‘Jordan finally gets up the courage to ask Alexis her permission to act on a fantasy that he has harbored for a long time: A casual ‘arrangement’ with Andrew, an unbearably attractive music producer that he meets online.’”

Louis laughs out loud. “Harry, what is this?”

Harry giggles with him. He seems to be reading ahead, when suddenly his giggles become guffaws and he’s laughing too hard to read on.

Louis takes the book from him and looks to the back. Finding the last paragraph, he reads, “‘Alexis is simultaneously turned on and a little afraid of this idea, but she decides to let Jordan go through with it. The results are dramatic, insanely hot and life-changing for all three people involved!’”

“It’s the exclamation point,” Harry wheezes. “I can’t stop laughing, because of that damn explanation point.”

Louis looks again and laughs right along with Harry. Harry laughs until there are tears in his eyes, and he’s clutching his own stomach. Some pair of teenagers keep glancing over at them — annoyed, curious, who knows.

Louis stops long enough to take a few deep breaths, calming himself down. Harry’s laughter finally dies down, as he takes a few deep breaths himself. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Louis asks.

“I don’t even know. That just took me by surprise,” he giggles again. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so funny to me.”

Louis smirks. “See now,  _ that’s _ what Nick should’ve handed out the first day of book club.”

Harry squawks again. Louis laughs and puts an arm around Harry’s shoulder, shushing him. Harry leans into it and looks him in the eyes, smiling wide.

“Those kids over there think we’re annoying,” Louis says, eyes sparkling.

Harry shrugs. “Didn’t think you were one to care about that.”

Louis smiles. “M’not usually.”

“Then let’s read another one,” Harry grins.

They stare at each other for just a moment, grinning and giggling until Louis realizes how close they actually are. Harry licks his lips, and glances just slightly down at Louis’. He could close the distance and he could be honest and it could be something really beautiful.

He removes his arm from Harry’s shoulder and creates the distance. It’s too soon. He wants to kiss Harry, but he doesn’t want it to get brushed off like a moment of weakness. Harry’s vulnerable and it’s too soon.

Harry coughs and picks up a different novel, chuckling at the title, but putting it back.

“Where do you think they keep their Dickens?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is one of my very favorites, so I certainly hope you enjoyed it. <3  
> Comments and kudos light up my life. I hope you'll leave some for me! You can also find me on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com) for other larry related antics. 
> 
> I really cannot wait to share the ending with you all. I'm very, VERY excited about it!!  
> See you next time! :D


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. 
> 
> This is...insane. I'm a wreck to be honest, so I won't ramble long but there's a couple things I want to say. 
> 
> First, thank you to [Elena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinloosah). Thank you for answering my call for a beta over three years ago. Thanks for giving me your e-mail address and letting me rant to you about this crazy AU idea I had. Thanks for encouraging me and being there every step of the way. I had no idea this weird little fic I wanted to write would have led me to one of my closest friends. I love you very much. Thank you for loving me and for loving this story every step of the way. <3 
> 
> Second, thank you to [Jacky](http://dimpled-halo.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for coming into this process part way through. I had no idea how much I needed a new, fresher perspective on this story that's lived in me for so long. You've been So helpful. And again, I'm endlessly thankful that this story also brought me your friendship. You're one of my very favorites. <3 
> 
> Thank you to literally anyone and everyone who has ever said anything kind to me in this process. Your comments have meant so very much to me, and those of you that have sought me out on tumblr to chat are just the very best. 
> 
> Okay I'm done. I'll stop wasting your time with all my tears and get on with it. I hope you enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

“But Loooouuuu,” Harry whines from across the room. He’s lying on his stomach on the couch and Louis had half a thought that he was going to sleep. He was getting ready to make his exit, before Harry got mopey about it. 

Liam went to bed a couple of hours ago, and Louis really wants to do the same. Harry just won’t let him, and as much as Louis likes sleep, he likes Harry so much more.

“But Harryyyyyy,” he mocks, weakly.

“That recliner is so comfortable! Just stay here!” Harry dimples, his face still pressed against the sofa. 

Louis is ridiculously endeared. He doesn’t want to say goodbye either. But it’s been a  _ week _ ,  Louis reminds himself for the millionth time. A week since Harry slotted himself back into Louis’ daily life. It’s only been a week and a few days since Harry and Cameron broke up. Barely any real time has passed at all and Louis’ downward spiral just keeps accelerating. He found himself genuinely missing Harry when he dismissed himself just to use the toilet. Every goodbye is harder than the last. 

Harry may be a few feet away from him now, but this is the first time all night some part of them hasn’t been touching. It had started with their habit of pulling each other along as they walk, but it’s evolved to little pats on the knee whenever they sit down, and leaning wholly against each other without an excuse. It’s  _ innocent _ and it’s likely meaningless. For God’s sake, Louis’ watched Harry have a cuddle with  _ Zayn  _ in the last few days. 

Still, Louis can’t shake the feeling that Harry’s different with him. He doesn’t look at Zayn like a gift from above when he takes the spot next to him. He doesn’t beam at Liam when he comes round the corner after having left for a moment. 

The scarier thing is just how  _ easy _ it all is. Louis’ had to start over so many times with Harry that it was disarming when they found this closeness with each other again so quickly. It’s not that they’re doing anything all that different, it’s that this time there’s quite literally nothing stopping them. So Louis doesn’t think twice before he plays with Harry’s hair or pokes him in the ribs to make him laugh, and he doesn’t worry too much when Harry scoots closer and asks him questions with their faces much too close together. 

“I am not sleeping on this recliner when I have a perfectly good bed in my perfectly good flat with a perfectly good couch that you could sleep on if you so choose.”

“But moving is hard.” Harry groans dramatically. “Why would you want to move when you could sleep right there?”

Everything Harry says sounds slightly slurred through his smushed face and Louis laughs. “Because it wouldn’t really be sleep, would it? It would be one of those afternoon naps that makes you more tired than you were before.”

“Ugh. Those are the  _ worst _ .” 

“I actually drove here today, so you wouldn’t even really have to move. Just come to mine.”

Louis doesn’t expect Harry to say anything. He watches as Harry rolls onto his side, releasing a heavy sigh before looking back up at Louis.

“Okay,” he says quietly.

Louis smiles, surprised. “Really?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

Neither moves for a moment. Louis breaks the brief silence with a chuckle. “You were right, moving  _ is _ hard.”

He groans at the ache in his joints when he finally does stand, and he hears Harry giggle softly at his expense.

“You think this is funny?” 

Harry laughs louder. “You sound like an old man.” 

“What like you could do much better? It’s your turn,” Louis teases. 

Harry dimples as he shuts his eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. Go on without me.” 

Louis shakes his head chiding, “Oh, no you don’t.” 

He extends a hand for Harry, but Harry just pushes it away with a snort. Louis knows he’s kidding, but this  _ just _ won’t do. 

“You’ve really changed your mind then?” Louis asks, playfully. He leans down beside the couch, and gives Harry’s rib an experimental poke. “I’d move if I were you. Your face is going to get stuck like that — all smushed on one side.” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Harry giggles. 

“You’re sure about that?” Louis pokes again. Harry bats away his hand, laughing. Louis’ admittedly addicted to the sound, so he sneaks his other hand to Harry’s side and goes in for the tickle. Harry’s not in a good defensive position, so Louis gains the upperhand rather quickly. Harry tries to sit up, but he’s cackling so hard that he’s clumsy about it. He accidentally elbows Louis in the head. 

Harry sits up much faster after that and takes Louis’ head in his hands. “Oh my god, Lou. I’m so sorry.” 

“Harry,” Louis laughs, “it’s fine.” 

Harry shakes his head emphatically, trying for another sincere apology, but the sheer ridiculousness of the situation dawns on him before he gets there. He brings his head to Louis’ shoulder where Louis can feel him once more shaking with laughter. 

“You sure you actually want to come over?” Louis asks. “I know I’ve been teasing you about it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“No, I want to,” Harry bites back a shy smile. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

Louis’ heart pounds in his chest, his eyes sparkling no matter how hard he tries to stay cool. “Goodbye’s the worst, innit?”

Harry smiles, soft and genuine. “The absolute worst.”

Harry decides to write Liam a little note before they go — being the mom friend, Liam worries — and they make their way out to Louis’ car in comfortable silence, their hands knocking together as they walk.

They soon arrive at Louis’ flat and though not another word is spoken the whole way there, Louis feels at ease. It’s just nice to be with Harry. There’s no pressure to entertain. Louis’ never really had that with anyone who isn’t his mum before.

Louis shuts the front door behind him and turns the lock. He turns to find Harry, standing with his arms crossed and swaying slightly. He seems much more awake than he’d been half an hour ago, and Louis finds himself feeling much the same. 

“Are you still tired?” he asks, just to be sure. 

“Not really anymore,” Harry confirms. 

Louis glances at the hook where Niall keeps his keys and sees that he’s home after all. “Wanna hang out in my room for a bit?” 

“Sure, yeah.” 

Louis leads the way, letting Harry into his room first before following.

“Do you want anything to drink? Water? Tea?” he asks, hushed.

“Water’s fine,” Harry smiles. “Thanks.”

“Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves Harry alone in his room and heads to the kitchen to grab a glass for water, putting on a kettle for tea in the meantime. He remembers Niall’s keys on the hook and decides to stay in the kitchen to stop the kettle’s screaming before it gets too loud.

Returning, he stops in the doorway of his bedroom and he finds Harry thumbing through a book from his nightstand.

Louis knocks lightly on the doorframe to get his attention. “Are you sure you don’t want any tea? I’m making some.”

Harry pushes himself off of Louis’ bed. “In that case, sure. I’d love some.”

With that settled, Louis leads them back into the kitchen. He pulls out a few mugs for Harry to choose from while they discuss night time tea preference.

They settle into conversation comfortably after that. Harry mentions these little girls that came into the library and asked him to help them find books they’d like. Louis tries not to sigh audibly at how sweet he must have been to them. He  _ really _ wants Harry to meet his other sisters, and the twins. Louis in turn tells Harry about the office and how his mind keeps wandering to leaving that building for the last time.

“Honestly, Lou, you should consider it. Whatever it takes, you should just start taking aptitude tests, or just looking for jobs similar to the one you have with a slightly better job description. You could do anything you want,” Harry says with a sincerity that makes Louis’ chest feel tight and his face warm.

It’s nice to have someone so openly rooting for him in a way that isn’t pushy or condescending. Zayn means well, but sometimes his pep talks sound more like lectures.

Louis refills their mugs and they make their way back to his bedroom. He turns on the bedside lamp and shuts off the main light while Harry gets settled on Louis’ bed. He props up a pillow against the headboard and leans against it, pulling his knees up and clutching his tea with both hands. He beams up at Louis, returning his smile.

Louis shuts the door and makes his way to the other side of the bed, propping up his own pillow and sitting beside him.

“Having a proper sleepover are we?”

Harry smiles, cheeks slightly pink. “I can still sleep on the couch if you want.”

Louis shakes his head. “This is fine. Wherever you’re most comfortable is great. I’m still not tired yet anyway.”

“Me either.”

Louis sips his tea, and Harry fiddles with the tea bag still sitting in his. Louis glances at a different book, sitting on the floor across the room, and clears his throat before asking. “Have you made much progress on  _ Mansfield Park _ yet?”

“Not really, no. I, erm — lost the copy you gave me from Nick.” Harry pauses a moment at the painful reminder. “I’ll have to replace it first.” 

Louis frowns. “Want to borrow mine?” 

Harry sips his tea, taking a moment, it seems, to collect himself. “Yeah, I probably will until I can get a copy from the library, if that’s okay.” 

“‘Course it is.” Louis says, tugging gently on a piece of Harry’s hair. “Then you can just tell me what happens. I’m not sure I’ll ever get through this one.” 

Harry grins. “You don’t fancy a bit of Jane Austen, then?”

“It’s more that I don’t fancy going backwards,” Louis contends. “I thought Grimshaw was working his way up to more modern titles. Now we’re back to reading about a ton of women gossiping about who the most agreeable men are and what’s proper and whatnot.” 

“I like Fanny, though,” Harry says. 

“Which one’s she again?” 

“Have you even started it?” Harry chuckles, knocking his knees against Louis’. 

“Nope,” Louis says with a pop of the ‘p’. 

“You read it and  _ then _ I’ll borrow it.” 

“That means I have to read it though!” Louis whines. 

“Exactly,” Harry laughs. “I like hearing your thoughts.”

Louis hums and offers a small smile. “I suppose I’ll have to get reading, then. I’ll prepare my official review.”

Harry smiles at him with a sheen of fondness and humor. Louis’ beginning to feel sleepy  — the tea soothing, and the company even moreso. It’s quiet between them for a few moments before Louis feels the headboard move as Harry rests back against it.  

“Can I ask you something?”

Louis leans back and turns his head to look at Harry. He nods.

“Have you seen Cam? Around the office?”

Louis’ not surprised. He’d anticipated Harry asking him sooner. They’ve made a habit of seeing each other at the end of their respective days, and every time Louis walks in the door, that question hangs unspoken in the air. There’s always nervous quality in Harry’s voice when he asks about Louis’ day, always with another question underneath. 

It’s funny; Louis used to find Harry very difficult to read. He’s not sure what’s changed. He likes to think that Harry’s let his guard down a little, but it could also be that Louis’ a quick study, and Harry is his favorite subject. 

“I have,” Louis admits. “Yeah.”

Since that day at his cubicle, Louis’ scarcely seen Cameron, but he’s seen the strife in every trace of his behavior. Louis had walked by his office just the other day and heard him on the phone  —  a picture of contention, picking a fight with anyone who would listen. 

Louis had  _ almost _ felt sorry for him. Until he’d realized this was likely the tone he’d taken with Harry. He had wondered in that moment if he’d ever actually listened to Cameron speak with Harry on the phone like that. The idea made him sick. 

“Was he alright?” Harry hesitates. “Like… I don’t know. Sorry, is it weird of me to ask that?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not at all. I’m just not sure how much you want to know.”

Harry bites his lip and sips his tea. “Whatever you think I should know.”

Louis sighs, but obliges. “Um. Well. He looked like shit, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like it looks like he hasn’t been sleeping much. I don’t see him often, but when I do you can tell that something’s off with him.”

Harry frowns. “Does he seem, like… angry? Has he been rude to you?”

Louis shook his head. “Not angry. And no. No more than usual. He just seems… tired. Really tired.”

Harry is silent. Louis tries to read him, but it seems those walls are up again for the moment. Louis wants to ask him about that night  — about what brought him to Liam’s. He wants to understand the depth of that darkness overtaking Harry’s face the same way he wants to lightly rub the furrow in his brow away. He wants Harry to feel the love he deserves. The love Louis has for him. 

And with that he decides that maybe he should just… take his leave. He’s not sure he can be this close to Harry without doing something stupid. 

He notices the little bags under Harry’s eyes. The grip on his empty mug has loosened considerably, and he looks like he could fall asleep sitting up. Louis reaches out and takes Harry’s mug. Harry doesn’t seem bothered, or alarmed. He just sets his hands at his sides. Louis places both of their mugs on the floor beside his bed to free up his hands. He gently lays one over top of Harry’s. 

“Hey, H?” 

Harry hums, head lolling in Louis’ direction. 

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch, okay? You can just stay in here.” 

Harry’s brows furrow again for a second, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he flips his palm underneath Louis’ and intertwines their fingers. Louis smiles softly. He feels warm all over when Harry smiles back. He squeezes Harry’s hand and lets go, ready to leave and bid him goodnight. 

Before he has the chance, he feels Harry grab his wrist. Louis turns. 

“You should stay,” Harry says, meeting Louis’ eyes.

“I’m not letting you spend another night on a couch, Harry. You need some rest — ”

“I mean with me,” Harry says, without any delay. “We can both sleep here.”  

Louis hesitates. He’s trying so hard not to be transparent. He knows this can’t be anything yet. He knows that Harry definitely isn’t ready for anything romantic with anyone at all, but Louis wonders for a moment if this is his chance to  _ say it _ without saying it.

Harry peers up at him, expectantly. 

“Okay,” Louis whispers. 

They settle in together. Harry pulls his pillow down flat and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. Louis can’t tell if his eyes are closed or not. He forgot to warn Harry that he sleeps on his right side, so he just hopes he doesn’t seem to be staring.

Louis closes his eyes, just in case.

It’s silent, with the exception of soft breathing and the air vent.

“Hey, Lou?”

Louis hums, keeping his eyes closed.

“You’re my best friend.” 

It hangs in the air a moment, floating like an autumn leaf, and Louis can feel it. The warmth and sincerity and  _ no _ , Louis reminds himself, Harry’s not ready for anything romantic yet. 

But the love is there. It’s there and it tugs at Louis in a way that aches. He wants nothing more than to open his eyes and to tell Harry that he loves him. He loves him so much he’s sick with it. 

“Me too, Haz,” Louis says. 

It’s enough. 

Side by side, they fall asleep. 

 

Harry loves the feeling of pages flipping under his thumb, almost as much as indulging in the old book smell of his new-to-him Walt Whitman collection. It’s become one of his favorites, mostly for sentimental reasons.  He remembers the exact moment Louis had found it. How excited he was to actually pick out one of Harry’s favorites in the random assortment of books. That day remains one of the worst of his life, but he remembers smiling and laughing much more than he thinks he ought. 

He smiles at the memory, and looks around for Louis. He said he’d meet him outside the library after work, but Harry wonders if he got held up for something. He’s been waiting a while. They’d planned to stop for some dinner with Niall, and Harry considers texting him so he knows they’re running late. 

He settles into a poem for a while, before he feels a tap on his right shoulder. He glances to his right, but doesn’t find anyone there. A familiar raspy laugh gives him away and Harry finds Louis on his left. 

“I knew you’d fall for that one,” he says, offering a hand to pull Harry up. Harry grins. He doesn’t really need the help, but he accepts it anyway. “Ready to go?”

“I was ready ages ago,” Harry says, mock exasperated.  Harry’s face twists into a grin when Louis laughs. 

“Oh, Haz, don’t let me forget to give you  _ Mansfield Park _ later,” Louis mentions as they set off.

“Did you finish it?” 

Louis smirks. “Yes. Yes I did.” 

He looks sly and Harry wonders what it is he’s missing, “Why are you being so shady about it?” 

Louis cackles in lieu of a response. 

“Are you lying?” Harry questions. “Come to think of it, I haven’t ever seen you read it.” 

“You never saw me read it because I read it at work.” Louis replies with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye.

“What, on your lunch break?” Harry laughs. Louis’ giddiness is like a song that forces you to sing with it. “I really don’t get it.” 

“I did it on the clock,” Louis laughs gleefully. “Figured I should get paid to read something like that.” 

“ _ Louis, _ ” Harry scolds, “are you  _ trying _ to lose your job?” 

“Meh. It would force me to get a new one, wouldn’t it?” 

“Lou, please get a new job  _ first _ . I’ve seen your savings account.” 

“I  _ knew _ you were peeking at my statement!” Louis exclaims. He reaches for Harry’s arm and pulls him closer, trying for a noogie, but Harry will not be treated like he’s  _ twelve _ , thank you. He squawks and tucks one of Louis’ arms  under his tightly. Louis laughs and tries to reach with his far hand, but Harry catches it and keeps it in a tight grip. They walk like this for several minutes, Louis struggling to get away, and Harry, playing human straightjacket, struggling to keep him. 

When they reach Niall’s favorite pub, they find him sitting outside, watching their approach with brows furrowed. 

Louis nudges Harry’s side with his tucked arm. “We look like a pair of proper weirdos.” 

“I’ve never pretended to be anything different,” Harry grins. 

Niall stands up, hands in his pockets and eyes gleaming. “Do I wanna know?” 

“He tried to  _ noogie _ me,” Harry explains. 

Niall laughs and shakes his head, “What the hell am I to do with the two of you.”  

“Haz, we’re not gonna fit through the door like this. You’re gonna have to let me go.” 

Regretfully, Harry does so, and the moment his grip loosens, Louis pokes him in the ribs and scurries away. 

Idiot. Harry chuckles despite himself and follows them both to a free booth.

Dinner is great. Harry looks around the pub more than once and wonders how this life is actually his. He feels a twinge of disappointment that Louis chose the spot next to Niall instead of saving one for him, but any trace of annoyance is forgotten when Louis does an impression of a stoned manatee and Niall snorts beer through his nose. Harry’s stomach hurts from laughing so hard, and also from eating an entire plate of chips. He’s full and sort of sleepy, but happy. Probably the happiest he’s ever been. 

He leans against the booth and takes a deep, cleansing breath. A complaint about how much he’d eaten is on the tip of his tongue when he hears the bell of the pub door. It’s distracted him before, but this time is different. When he looks up, he sees a familiar face. One that he foolishly thought he’d never see again. 

Harry tries to school his expression into something neutral. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself, but he can’t help the fear that emits from his eyes. He darts them downward, fixing his gaze on the messy dishes and napkins and hoping,  _ begging _ them to make him invisible. He glances up again and sees Cameron take a seat at the bar. Louis had been right  —  he looks tired. Harry is the happiest he’s ever been and Cameron looks so tired. 

Harry feels himself start to choke up. He wants to cry but he  _ really _ doesn’t want to be noticed. He wants to bolt out of here and never look back. Instead, he sits very still, keeping his gaze in his lap, hoping that he’ll sink into the booth behind him. 

“H?” 

Harry can’t move. He  _ can’t _ . He tries to take a deep breath and that proves to be very difficult. 

“H, what is it? Are you okay?” Louis sounds genuinely concerned now, and Harry wishes he’d use hushed tones. 

Harry opts for honesty and shakes his head. He’s a terrible liar anyway. 

“What happened?” Louis asks. He feels far away, even though he’s just across the table. “You feel sick?” 

Harry nods. So sick, but likely not the way Louis’ thinking. He feels sick with something else. Humiliation maybe? Guilt? He’d been so stupid not to assume this would happen. Manchester is big, but Cameron lives close by. He’s near all the same places. It was bound to happen. 

Louis pulls some cash from his wallet and says something to Niall that Harry doesn’t catch. It feels like he’s in a snow globe, his view of the world completely distorted by someone brutally turning him upside down and shaking. He’s dizzy, and he’s scared, and he’s so embarrassed. Next thing he feels is Louis gently patting his back. 

“Let’s go, love,” Louis says quietly. Harry nods again, but keeps his gaze straight ahead. 

Harry’s surprised he’s able to walk, though it almost doesn’t feel like he is. He’s so grateful for the fresh air and the wide open space. It’s ridiculously cloudy and probably going to rain, but Harry doesn’t mind, so long he’s anywhere but inside that stuffy pub. 

Louis keeps his distance, but remains at Harry’s side, and for that he’s thankful. He wonders if Cameron saw either of them. He’s almost positive if he had he would’ve chased them down, but maybe not. Maybe he saw Harry with the others and thought better of it. He’s glad it wasn’t only one other person so Cameron could see that it was friends. That Harry wasn’t cheating. 

Not that it matters anymore. They’re not together and Harry can see whoever he wants. Still, he struggles with everything Cameron said to him. Sometimes he’s lying in Louis’ bed and he can’t sleep because it feels like Cameron was right. And it’s not fair for Cameron to have known anything before Harry did. It’s not fair that Cameron can still get under his skin and make him question every feeling and thought he’s ever had. 

“Haz, come here,” Louis motions, and Harry obliges. He wipes at his eyes, unsure of when he started crying. Louis pulls Harry into a tight hug and they stay like that for a while, in the middle of a sidewalk. 

Louis doesn’t let go until someone on a bike rings their bell at them. He pulls Harry aside and they walk across the street to a nearby park. There’s an empty picnic table and Louis dusts off the seat beside him, offering Harry a place. 

Louis waits a few moments to ask anything, and again, Harry feels so thankful. He sets his head on Louis’ shoulder and takes a shaky breath in. Louis puts an arm around him. 

“Wanna tell me what happened in there?” he asks softly. “Did anyone say something to upset you?” 

Harry sniffles a bit. “I saw him.” 

He can hear Louis’ sharp intake of breath. “Cameron?” 

Harry nods against Louis’ shoulder. “He walked into the pub and I just… I kind of lost it.” 

“I saw.” Louis says. “It felt like you were scared.” 

Harry sits up and pushes his hair back. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels Louis move his hand to his upper back, where he strokes softly with his thumb. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asks. 

Harry rubs his face with both his hands. He doesn’t. But it feels like he should. It feels like someone else should know what happened that night. Because if this ever happens again, Harry doesn’t want to be alone in his snow globe. He’d much rather there be someone to steady it. 

Harry takes a very deep breath. It’s so hard to say out loud. The more he thinks about it the harder it gets to stay steady. His eyes well up again and he reaches for Louis’ hand. 

Louis intertwines their fingers, ever attentive to Harry and what he needs. Harry is overwhelmed, but Louis’ still here. He’s still listening. His every movement says  _ I’m here _ .

He’s stalling now, but he looks to Louis’ concerned face. He takes his free hand and wipes at his eyes again before he rips his confession off like a bandage. 

“He hit me, Lou.” 

Louis’ eyes get marginally wider, but he doesn’t reply. 

“That night that I left. I just… I was trying to be honest with him,” Harry starts. “I didn’t even plan on breaking up with him, I just wanted him to know that I wasn’t happy.” 

HIs lip quivers and the tears flow freely now. 

“You were so brave, love. Being honest is hard.” 

“He didn’t think that that’s what I wanted though.” Harry’s voice wobbles. “He thought I was  —  I was cheating. And then he said some other stuff too. I don’t know, it all happened so fucking fast, Lou. Before I knew it, he thought I was trying to break up with him and when I didn’t deny it right away he just...lost it.” 

Uncommonly, Louis is at a loss for words. He looks like he’s trying to say a million things at once, but he likely can’t settle on anything. 

Louis puts his arm back around Harry all the way and squeezes. To Harry’s surprise, he doesn’t settle for “sorry.” Instead Louis places his head on Harry’s shoulder. It’s nice. Comforting, even. Harry’s confession still sits in the air in front of them as the last thing said, but Harry doesn’t sense an ounce of pity. 

When Louis lifts his head, he wipes his eyes and Harry feels his own begin to wet again. He’s stunned that Louis is so affected by Harry’s confession. For all they talk of being soft and letting fictional scenarios bring them to tears, Harry’s never actually seen Louis cry. Knowing these tears are for him, are in solidarity, has him dumbfounded. 

“I don’t have anything but stupid questions,” Louis says, eyes rimmed red. “Are you okay? I hadn’t seen any bruises or — ” 

Harry shakes his head. “There weren’t any. It wasn’t brutal. Well… I mean, he didn’t beat me. It was just once. A slap.” 

Harry brings a hand to his cheek instinctively, and Louis’ hand follows. 

“Harry, I am so sorry that happened to you.” 

It’s the most sincere apology Harry’s ever received. He’s reassured that none of this was his fault. He’s reminded that he doesn’t have to move forward on his own. And he’s once again relieved that it’s over. 

“Me too.” 

The air shifts after that. Something in Harry changes, and he feels it. It’s a strange feeling that sits in his bones and in his heart. It’s purely internal, but with it he carries himself differently. 

He’s still a little lost. He hates the idea of Cameron poking around in his head, but Harry knows now the power that he gave Cameron. He understands the depth of it. The difference is that he’s not sitting at the bottom of that pit anymore. He looks down at the heart of it and he sees the way he stopped trusting himself. He sees the way his thoughts and feelings not only became less important, they became wrong. Incorrect. Unapproved. 

He’s not withdrawn. He still feels himself hover close to Louis or Liam or anyone when he gets the chance. He likes to feel close. It makes him feel more grounded and present. He laughs and smiles and genuinely enjoys their company. But his mind has been wandering more. There’s so much to process  —  too much. And whenever he gets a moment, instead of processing, he delves into the pages of  _ Mansfield Park _ , where he finds solace and comfort in Fanny, trying to make a home of her new place  —  her new life. It feels aptly timed, and for all Louis complained of it, Harry’s glad that Nick chose this book. 

It’s a Saturday afternoon when Harry finds himself at a halfway point in the novel. He’s grown fond of the chaos and the arguments and the way Fanny maneuvers through it all. 

It’s raining today. The storm clouds had come with a ferocity no one had been expecting. Louis was especially disappointed because he’d bought a frisbee with a pokemon on it and he’d wanted to show it off. Harry had laughed at his genuine disappointment, and Louis had been pretending to be mad at him until a few minutes ago. 

Louis hops up onto the couch beside him. “Harold, I’m bored.” 

“Lewis, I’m reading.” 

“What if we played with my frisbee inside...” 

Harry laughs lowly, but doesn’t lift his eyes from the page. 

“Where are you at?” Louis asks. 

Harry hums. “What do you mean?” 

“Like, what’s happening? Is Edmund driving you mad yet?” 

Harry furrows his brows, but he’s smiling. “Why would Edmund drive me mad?” 

“Because he’s ridiculous and daft.” 

“What the hell are you on about? Edmund isn’t daft. I don’t like Miss Crawford so well, but he’s a perfect gentleman.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “But Fanny’s so gone for him. He doesn’t see it and it drives me  _ nuts _ .” 

“You think so?” Harry asks. He of course had noticed the fondness between them. And Fanny does seem to be…  _ bothered _ by Miss Crawford and her likely engagement with Edmund. But Harry loves their friendship and he thought that maybe Fanny just wanted the very best for her dear friend.

“Did you read the part where Edmund writes her a little note yet? To bring her the chain?” 

Harry nods.

“Didn’t you think that was a little… not platonic?” 

“What, Edmund giving it to her, or…?” 

“I mean, that too, to be honest. But Fanny is so funny about it,” Louis chuckles. 

“It’s a lovely sentiment,” Harry defends. “It suits her style and everything. It’s lovely that Edmund would think of her.” 

“It is,” Louis agrees and reaches for the book from Harry’s hand. Harry let’s him have it and watches as he flips through pages, tongue sticking out as he determinedly scans the pages. 

“Here,” Louis smirks, returning the book to Harry. “Read this bit.” 

Louis points to the section and Harry reads it aloud. 

“‘This specimen written in haste as it was, had not a fault; and there was a felicity in the flow of the first four words, in the arrangement of ‘My very dear Fanny,’ which she could have looked at forever.’” Harry furrows his brow. “I don’t get it.” 

“It’s the note! The one he starts to write when Fanny isn’t there to receive his gift.” 

“So? She’s flattered! It’s sweet.” 

“It’s very sweet. But it’s not platonic.” 

Harry implores Louis with a pointed stare. “Do you mean Edmund or Fanny? I’m confused.” 

“Both.” 

Harry…thinks about that. He reads on and finds that Louis may be right. Fanny’s jealousy is getting a little out of hand. Weirdly, it makes Harry think of how miffed he was when Louis sat with Niall the other night at dinner. They always sit together, so when he found himself alone on one side of the table, he was a little irritated. 

He always does this. He reads a book and he identifies so strongly, finds incidents he can relate to, and it’s… it can’t always be true. Not every time. He’s probably looking too far into it. Exaggerating. He wasn’t  _ that _ irritated. It was just a little nudge. This poke at his heart, and a small disheartened plea for Louis to be a little closer to him. It’s not a huge deal, but… not platonic, is it? 

Louis stands from the couch. Harry watches him pull a bag of popcorn from the cupboard and stick it in the microwave. Harry avoids his gaze and looks back to his book, pretending to look busy. He finds himself distracted by a steady sound  — Louis tapping a beat against his kitchen counter. He’s so impatient and Harry thinks it’s funny every time. He often thinks that’s why Louis is so creative  —  he can’t spend a moment in idle thought. And yet, Louis can’t be bothered to distract himself while he’s waiting for something, he’s too busy making it abundantly clear to everyone else that he’s tired of waiting. 

Harry feels his heartbeat accelerate and his palms get a little sweaty. Does he have feelings for Louis? He wonders briefly if Louis can feel him thinking about him. Harry’s never been as discreet as he hopes to be. What if he asks? What would Louis say? It’s not like Louis would  _ return  _ these feelings. He couldn’t. Harry’s not sure if he’s even  _ allowed _ to feel them. Or how long he’s had them. Was Cameron right? 

No. This isn’t about Cam. He doesn’t get to dictate the way Harry processes things anymore. That’s in the past. It’s over. Harry has to figure this out his own way. It’s terrifying, proceeding in life without this filter he didn’t realize he’d been using. 

Louis pulls his popcorn from the microwave and returns to his seat beside Harry. 

Harry watches as he takes a handful from the bag and tries to stick all of it in his mouth at once. Harry grins, biting back a laugh while Louis struggles to keep it all in and chew at the same time. He catches Louis’ eye and with his mouth full he offers, “Want some?” 

It’s hopelessly endearing. Harry’s fucked. 

Louis’ fucked. He’s vaguely aware of Liam and Zayn discussing something trivial from the table, but he can’t focus in to save his life. His mind is a constant stream of thought regarding Harry, Harry, and  _ Harry _ . 

When Harry had told Louis exactly what had happened with his ex, he’d been overcome with this impossible hurt. Knowing everything that had happened has Louis feeling like he himself endured it. And if he’s hurt that much, he can’t begin to  _ imagine _ how Harry must feel. 

Louis wasn’t sure if it was possible for them to be any closer without crossing that line he’s been toeing. And yet, Louis seems to have developed a deep ache in his chest from how much he loves Harry. And Harry keeps pressing on it. He’ll reach for Louis’ hand first, or move across the room to be closer to him. Those things don’t feel new, but they’ve come with a new preface. It feels like Harry’s checking with him, always peering at him as though he’s asking for permission first.

Of course, the answer is always yes. But Louis’ bursting at the seams and it’s becoming harder and harder to hold back. It doesn’t help that Harry loves physical affection so much. They still find themselves speaking to each other with their faces very close, and waking up in the morning with legs tangled  — or even, in one incident, spooning. 

Louis’ still a little blown away by it. The way things just fell into place. There’s a place for Harry in his bed, and he’s not sure how it happened so seamlessly. He’s also blown away by the fact that his entire cover hasn’t been blown by some unfortunate morning wood. 

Everything about their dynamic screams so much more, which somehow feels appropriate to Louis. But there’s this nagging part of Louis that wonders if Harry’s even aware of it. He wonders if their friendship transcends most physical boundaries and whether Harry’s ever given any of it further thought. 

A reassurance is that Cameron’s presence between them is dwindling. Harry doesn’t really bring him up as much, and he’s been so serene lately that Louis has a hard time believing that Harry’s held back or bottled any of it up. He’s much less closed off, even more rested than he had seemed a few weeks ago. It’s a relief that Harry doesn’t seem so weighed down anymore. He seems happy. 

Louis imagines the precipice of their free fall to be a kiss. And  _ god _ does he want to kiss Harry. It would all click into place  —  maybe that’s too cheesy or unrealistic, but the thought feels right. It would feel  _ so  _ right. If Harry would just let Louis kiss him, he’d see it. He’d see it and he’d love Louis and Louis would obviously love him too and they could live happily ever after. Right? 

Everything is fine  —  though, sometimes frustrating. Louis keeps finding himself in these positions where it becomes ten times harder not to kiss Harry. Louis calls him every pet name in his arsenal every other sentence and each interaction just feels like so  _ much _ , but he’s not allowed to prove it in a way that counts. Harry may not be ready for that yet. 

“I just think you need to go for it, mate,” Zayn says from the couch in Liam’s living room. Harry’s mom is in town, so he’s spending the evening with her. Louis’ been on edge all evening anyway because he knows what they’ll be talking about. It’s unfortunate, knowing the buzzing under his skin won’t go away until Harry’s here and telling him how it went.

“I really can’t though,” Louis argues. “As much as I’d like to, I can already tell you what would happen. He’ll give me those big eyes and he’ll want to know what it means and I’ll be terrified that I’ve ruined everything and no matter what I would say, he’ll run far, far away. And I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Harry’s so gone for you though,” Liam supplies from the kitchen. 

It’s reassuring, but it’s not enough. “Do you think Harry thinks so?”

Liam grimaces and shrugs. “I mean, there’s a chance he hasn’t realized it yet.”

“So, you have to  _ make _ him realize it,” Zayn interjects. “You’ve gotta be a little more obvious, Lou. Though to be honest, I have no idea how that could be possible.”

Louis stares, unimpressed. “That’s the thing though. I don’t want to make him do anything. I want him to know that he has feelings for me and I want him to give me the go ahead. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what?” Zayn asks, bewildered. 

“What if I tell him the truth and then he decides he wants nothing to do with me?” 

“Why the hell would he decide that?”

“I don’t know, Zayn,” Louis sighs, frustrated. “Maybe he could look at all this time we’ve spent together and think I’ve just been trying to get in his pants? Maybe he could think I was taking advantage of him in his vulnerable state? He could think that I’ve had this weird and creepy ulterior motive the entire time and want absolutely nothing to do with me!”

“So you’ve given this some thought?”

Louis glares at Zayn, eyes narrowed and unamused. He takes a seat on top of Zayn’s legs on the couch. Zayn retaliates and pulls his legs from underneath Louis to kick him lightly. Louis laughs and tucks his legs under him, while Zayn sits up, leaving a space for Liam.  

“It gets harder every day not to just kiss him on instinct, so of  _ course _ I’ve thought about being honest with him,” Louis continues. “I just… I’m afraid it won’t end well.”

Liam rounds the corner with a few open beers.

“Listen, though,” Liam starts, handing off a beer to Louis. “Here’s the thing, I don’t think Harry could see you that poorly, even if he tried.” He takes the seat beside Zayn. “Harry can’t think that poorly of anyone for long  —  even if they deserve it. Think of how long it took for Harry to be  _ resolved _ that Cameron didn’t deserve him. If someone that consistently terrible can stay in Harry’s good graces, I doubt he’d even consider you capable of taking advantage of him or whatever.”

“That’s not really fair, Liam,” Louis snaps. “He loved Cameron. He’s not  _ stupid _ or willingly ignorant, he’s just — ”

“Hey, whoa,” Liam interrupts. “You can put the fangs away, thanks. That’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what do you mean?” Louis’ a tad defensive. He can’t help it. 

“I just mean, if Harry could see the good in an arse like Cameron for fucking years and still have a hard time saying a bad thing about him? There’s no way in hell he’d be able to think any of those horrible things are true of you for more than like, a day. And you’d be even better off because he’d probably come to me and I could swear to him that that was never what you meant.”

Louis can see Liam’s point. Maybe it’s dramatic, maybe it’s over-anxious, but Louis just can’t stand the thought of Harry thinking he’d mistreat him at all. He doesn’t want to give him any room to believe that, because if the thought crossed his mind once… what if it crossed his mind again? What if it got brought up in a fight? What if Harry forgives him for concealing his feelings, but changes his mind? What if he brings it up years from now and deems his actions unforgivable? What if Louis isn’t given a chance to fix it?

Louis loves him. He hasn’t said as much aloud, because he doesn’t want his friends to go ballistic. But he really, truly loves him and he just. He doesn’t want it to be doomed from the start. He doesn’t want to be Harry’s Mr. Rochester or his Mr. Ramsay. He just wants to be Louis. Harry’s Louis. 

Then again, Louis knows that Liam’s right. He feels it every time Harry gets just a little too close. It’s almost an impulse or second nature. It’s often enough for Louis to explore this fleeting thought that it couldn’t be too soon for them. Maybe there is no right timeline for this to work. Maybe it’s alright to be just a little ahead of schedule.

 

Cameron comes up in conversation one more time. Louis hadn’t been expecting it. It’s been so long since Harry’s even said his name. 

They’re watching a movie. Harry’s burrowed in Louis’ side, pretending he’s smaller than he is, with his head on Louis’ shoulder and his knees pulled up, resting on Louis’ thighs. Louis has one arm around him, and the other on his knee. Reese Witherspoon is walking slowly across her own rooftop, marveling at this garden Mark Ruffalo built for her, knowing but not knowing how she knows him.

Louis hears Harry sniffling, reminded now of one of the cutest things about him. How involved he gets in silly stories like this one. He squeezes his shoulder and Harry looks up at him, smiling as he wipes at his face. Louis’ caught him tearing up at an open book too many times to count in the time they’ve known each other, so this instance shouldn’t surprise him.

The couple on TV kiss, and Louis sighs against his will. Harry does the same, drying his cheeks and sitting up as the end credits roll.

“Has anyone ever kissed you like that?” Harry asks.

Louis looks back quizzically. “Why do you ask?”

“Curious,” he shrugs.

“Not really. The last time I kissed someone it was in uni, and it was just a quick shag, so not a lot of actual kissing.”

Harry looks like he’s thinking very hard, though Louis can’t imagine what about.

“Cam never kissed me like that,” Harry says.

“Bad kisser, was he?” Louis asks, teasing. He’s found he can get away with small jabs. Silly ones. Harry usually laughs. This time he just looks contemplative.

“Not… bad. Just, not very in tune to what I wanted, which in hindsight makes sense,” Harry admits. “There were days when I enjoyed kissing him, but he never really kissed me like I wanted him to.”

“And how’s that?” Louis asks.

Harry thinks about it a moment. “Like… like savoring it. Like it matters. You know, you like, read those paragraphs in books where someone tries to convey as much meaning in a kiss as they can. Like they just did.” He gestures to the TV. “Where they hold you as close as possible and kiss you like they think they may never have the chance again.”

Harry’s doing that  _ thing _ again, where he moves closer to Louis with every word. They have to stop meeting this way, especially during conversations like this, because Louis is less and less sure of his own willpower. He wants to kiss Harry just like that. Like Harry deserves. Louis’ not even sure he’d know how, but he thinks he’d be able to pull it off if only because he wants to  _ so much _ . Before he knows it, Harry’s mouth is centimeters away from Louis’.

“Do you know what I mean?” Harry asks, whispering, just shy of touching Louis’ face. They’re so  _ close _ .

“I think so,” Louis whispers back. “I haven’t been kissed like that either.”

It’s so quiet. Louis searches Harry’s face for any sign of panic, but he doesn’t find it. And he wonders… is it still too soon? Is it a horrible idea? Will Harry run away? What if he’s completely misreading him?

“What are you thinking about?” Harry asks him, voice still barely above a whisper.

Louis looks deep into his eyes, and tries to tell him.  _ You, it’s always you and how much I want to kiss you. _

He doesn’t know if it works, or if Harry’s just as hopeless as he is, but barely a second later, Harry’s face moves just a little closer. Louis can feel Harry’s breath on his lips, and it’s taking every piece of willpower he has not to move in just that extra bit.

“Can I try something?” Harry asks, and Louis’ so busy drowning in every  _ don’t-kiss-him-now _ mantra he has to deny Harry the opportunity to do whatever he damn pleases.

And it’s Harry that rids them of that barely there space. It’s Harry that grazes his lips across Louis’ and presses into them just lightly. Louis’ shocked, but not so shocked that he can’t bring himself to press back. Harry just barely pulls his mouth back, but the dam is broken, and Louis chases it. His lips relish Harry’s soft, plush kisses before Harry opens his mouth just slightly.

He tastes like wine and salt and risk.

It’s cautious, and slow, and innocent, albeit a slip of Harry’s tongue.

When Louis pulls away, he feels Harry’s hands on his thigh and hip, and he realizes his own are resting on Harry’s face and in his hair. Harry sits back and looks as frazzled as Louis feels. They both slowly remove their hands from each other.

“Wow,” Harry says, scratching the back of his neck. “I hope that was. Um. Sorry.”

Louis doesn’t know why Harry’s sorry. That was the best first kiss he’s ever had.

“Don’t be sorry,” Louis says, trying to sound nonchalant. “It was fine. I hope, um.”

“You’re a good kisser,” Harry says.

“Thanks,” Louis laughs. He doesn’t want to laugh. He wants to tell Harry the truth and kiss him again.

“Wow, okay,” Harry says, collecting himself. “I think. Um. I should… should I leave? Tonight?”

_ Please don’t go, _ Louis wants to say. He wants to beg.  _ Please tell me that meant something to you. _

“Or was that… okay?” Harry asks, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I’m really horrible at this.”

He’d known it would be too much. He’d known it would be too soon. He’d known he hadn’t been going to win this one. And maybe not, but maybe it’s time to come clean anyway.

“That was okay, right?” Harry sounds unconvinced. 

Louis feels distraught  — that was  _ more _ than okay. Brilliant. Wonderful. Better than Louis had even imagined. He grabs Harry’s hand from the couch and squeezes it. He’s not sure what to say, but he looks up at Harry anyway and feels more exposed than he ever has before in his life.

“That was definitely okay with me,” he admits, and watches Harry’s cheeks burn a precious pink. He doesn’t respond, but pulls his hand from Louis’ and fiddles with his lower lip.  

After a moment’s hesitation, Louis supplies, “But you don’t have to agree.”

Harry seems conflicted. After another agonizing pause, Harry averts his eyes. 

“I might go,” he says, eyes stormy. He reaches again for Louis’ hand. “Friends?”

Louis takes a moment to gather himself. “Best friends.”

Louis keeps his gaze for a moment. He recalls what Harry had said moments ago about conveying all the meaning he has in a kiss, and wonders if he can accomplish that now. It proves very difficult when Harry keeps looking away. A few seconds more and Harry makes his exit from Louis’ flat. 

Louis wants to pretend it doesn’t hurt. He wants to pretend that it’s not a big deal. And that everything is fine, but when Louis climbs into bed alone for the first time in weeks he’s cold. He’s cold, and his other pillow smells like Harry and he doesn’t know why Harry left. 

Well, he does. They hit their precipice. 

He falls to his back, “Fuck.” 

 

“Haz?” says a voice at the door. It’s Liam, because this is his flat, and Harry’s returned to his couch in a right state.  “You okay?”

Harry shakes his head. “I mean. Yeah, but not really.”

“It’s really late.” Liam says. “Why aren’t you with Lou?”

Harry bites at his bottom lip and sits up, pushing his hair back on top of his head. He sighs heavily. “It’s stupid.”

Liam chuckles. “You think I believe that?”

Harry shakes his head and feels his chest fill up with air and relief. He exhales when Liam takes a seat on the couch beside him. “Did you two have a spat?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like then?”

“I think I needed some space.”

Liam furrows his brows. “Since when? Why?”

Harry chuckles a little, but he feels his eyes and shoulders fall. “I, um. Well...he kissed me.”

Liam’s eyes get a little bigger at that. “He did?”

“Okay, no, he didn’t. I kissed him. It was my fault.”

“So you kissed him… then decided you needed space?”

Harry nods, and feels something low in his throat tighten. He strains his lower lids to keep any tears from falling down. He doesn’t want to cry because it doesn’t feel appropriate. He isn’t  _ hurt _ . He’s just so overwhelmed that it seems the only reaction his body can come up with is a good cry. A cry that releases itself when Liam pats Harry’s shoulder and says, “It’s okay, Haz.”

After a few moments, Harry’s begun to lose his breath. He hiccups as he wipes at his eyes, and tries his very best to calm down. Liam is trying to talk to him, but Harry can’t focus past the hollow breaths he’s intent on taking. Liam gives up asking questions in favor of coaching Harry through a few long deep breaths, and once Harry’s finally got a grip, they sit in silence for a minute. Harry leans back against the couch and Liam stays where he is, patting Harry’s knees consolingly every few minutes.

They stay like that for what feels like an hour but is probably much less. Liam squeezes Harry’s shoulder after a bit. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’m already okay,” Harry sniffs. “Just not sure what to do.”

“How did it… well, what happened exactly?”

Harry sits up straighter and steadies himself. It feels complicated, but he knows it isn’t. “I just. I really wanted to kiss him. So I did.”

“Then what went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong. It was perfect. He, erm, well he kissed me back and it was lovely, but I don’t know what that meant to him. He said it was okay but I felt weird and so I left.  _ I _ went wrong, I guess. It was all me.”

Liam nods, listening, but Harry doesn’t have anything else to say.

When Louis wakes up for work he has two missed calls and a text from Zayn. The text is exactly what Louis expected. A stupid question.  _ Are you okay? _

Louis could be a twat and text back  _ What do you think?! _ Zayn more than likely knows that Harry slept at Liam’s last night. Instead, he ignores it and calls his sister.

Lottie picks up on the first ring. “This better be good, Lou.”

“Sorry, love. You busy? I can call you back later.”

“No, you might as well tell me why you’ve called first.” Lottie feigns annoyance. “I’ll be distracted, wondering if you’re alright.”

“I’m fine, Lottie,” Louis chuckles. He knew Lottie could lift his spirits, even if only slightly. 

“Then why’d you call me?”

“Harry kissed me last night,” Louis says. The line is silent for a moment, but Louis hears the rustling of papers.

“Sorry, come again?”

“Harry kissed me.”

“He kissed  _ you _ ? Not the other way around?”

Louis shakes his head before he remembers she can’t see him. “Not the other way around. But I mean, I kissed him back.”

“Well of course you did!” He can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m so happy for you, Lou. That’s great.”

“Lots did you not hear what I just said?”

“Yes? What’s the problem?”

“It was too soon,” Louis sighs. “Just like I told you and everyone, it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Louis, don’t be stupid. He initiated it.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He didn’t stay here last night. He went home.”

“Well, yeah he did! The context of your whole relationship changed! He can’t just stay over anymore.”

Louis huffs frustratedly. “You say all this like it’s some really easy thing to piece together. But Harry kissed me and then he ran away. I fucked it up, Lottie.”

“Louis, you’re way over-complicating this. Just give him space, and I am ninety-nine point nine percent sure he’ll come back. Give it time.”

“I’ve given it time, and I’m just worried that I’ll be waiting forever.”

“Waiting for what? To continue being friends? For him to love you back? You’ll get one of the two and maybe both eventually. He just needs to process it. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

“Did you speak to him or something?” Louis groans. “How the fuck do you know all this?”

“Because I’m your wiser, younger sister, and as I told you ages ago, you should just start listening to me.”

“What if it didn’t mean anything to him?” Louis asks, ignoring his sister’s teasing. “I’m just… it’s so stupid, but I’m so worried that it was just like, this experiment. Where he wanted to see if he was ready to kiss other people. I just don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be… temporary.”

Lottie sighs. “Louis, if you don’t hear from him in a few days, then just ask to see him. Talk to him. I’ll talk to you later.”

She hangs up.

His day doesn’t improve much from there. He’s tired and anxious and he sees Cameron again that day. Still looking tired and frustrated and sad, and Louis really doesn’t want to relate to that. He doesn’t want to know what it’s like to lose Harry the way Cameron has.

It’s that thought that stays with him all day at his desk as he wonders if he’ll ever hear from Harry again. He wonders if Zayn will try to call him again or if Zayn is done with him too. Did he lose everyone he ever loved to Harry? He couldn’t blame them. He’d probably pick Harry too.

Lottie made it all sound so simple, and he thinks for the slightest moment that what she’d said could be possible. He feels his heart inflating at the thought. But it can’t be that simple because it’s never been simple. He deflates again. He’s had feelings where feelings aren’t allowed. Simple is not what this is. Not with Harry. Not even now.

Though, if Harry does feel the same… it could be. Could Harry really know if he was ready to love someone again?  And even if he does think he knows, would Louis be prepared to find that Harry was wrong?

When he still hasn’t heard anything from Harry by lunch, he’s worried Harry doesn’t even want to be his friend anymore. His sorrow and anxiety turn to frustration. He slams a filing cabinet door shut when it gets caught and won’t open all the way. He literally stamps his foot at it and when he finally steps outside the office walls to find food, he stops to wonder what the hell is wrong with him.

Still no texts from Harry. That’s bullshit, to be honest. It’s not Louis’  _ fault _ . He had done everything he possibly could have to avoid a no-looking-back situation with Harry, and Harry’s the one who had  ruined it  — but  _ Louis _ is the one paying for it. It’s just unfair. He had never forced anything on him, he had always tried to be okay for Harry and tried to make him comfortable and happy. And no, that doesn’t mean Harry  _ has _ to be in love with him. No, Louis’ not so entitled that he thinks their relationship would be any fun if Harry didn’t want it.

It just hurts. It hurts because he had tried so hard to do everything right. In wanting nothing but Harry’s happiness, he feels like he’s been left alone with all the sadness and a best friend that doesn’t want anything to do with him. He had thought and pined so hopelessly until it was for nothing. He’s alone again. Alone with a shitty job and friends who are too busy for him. Even his sister doesn’t need him.

Oh, god. He’s going to die alone. And before Harry, that had never mattered to him.

It still doesn’t. He’s not really alone. He knows that.

He clutches his phone a little tighter and sends a message to Lottie.

_ Still nothing. _

He sets his phone down and bites into his apple. It’s too sour and Louis spits it out, scowling.

**_Lou it’s not even been a day._ **

True. How sad.

_ I know… _

**_Did he seem mad? When he left last night? Is that why you’re freaking out?_ **

Louis thinks back on it. And, no, not angry. A little uncomfortable—surprised, maybe?

_ Not really… I just feel like I fucked it up. _

**_Louis, I’m going to ask you to do something that I know is very hard for you to do._ **

_ What? _

**_Just trust him._ **

 

Harry has hardly slept. His anxiety simmers under his skin, and occasionally spreads to his heart. He feels his pulse strengthening every time he thinks too long about Louis’ lips and his hands and his kind and gentle eyes. It’s funny to think that when they had met, Harry had seen Louis as something fierce and sharp. Opinionated and sarcastic and everything he’d said was pointed. Now, he’s soft surfaces, late nights with heavy limbs, small pats and loving eyes. Harry can’t think of Louis without defaulting to pure adoration.

The confusion sets in every time Harry wishes he could just talk to Louis about this mess. Louis would know what to say, if Louis himself weren’t the problem. Harry curses himself for deciding to leave that night every few hours, because he had known even then that it wasn’t space he had needed. Or wanted, rather. The problem is that Harry doesn’t know what he wants.

Early that morning, he lies awake on Liam’s couch and thinks he’s figured it out, but it’s too much. 

He can’t imagine finding the bravery to ask for it.

He wants Louis to want him too. Maybe that’s not hard to imagine when paired with the memory of Louis cupping his cheeks and playing with his hair and his eager touch and tight grip and that damn near perfect kiss. But then he remembers what Louis had said afterward. He’d admitted to enjoying it, sure, but it had almost felt like he’d only wanted to give Harry what he’d been asking for. He hadn’t tried to kiss Harry again. Hadn’t done much of anything to stop Harry from walking out the door.

It’s not a fair line of thinking, but it’s true. On some level, he knows Louis would never stop him. He’s been belligerent about respecting Harry’s space and boundaries. Really, Harry hasn’t felt so wholly cared for in years. There’s a warm bubble in his chest when he thinks about it. His eyes burn and he’s tired of tears being a common reflex these days. He lets them fall as he admits something to himself, something that’s lived in the back of his head for longer than he’s acknowledged.

“I really could fall in love with him.”

“I reckon you’re already more than halfway there, mate.”

Harry sits straight up and looks behind him. Zayn rounds the corner and rests his hip against the doorway with a smirk on his face.

“I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Sorry,” Zayn shrugs. “I snuck in late last night. Liam left for work early.”

“Oh,” Harry says, stupidly.

“Liam told me what happened.”

Harry avoids Zayn’s eyes, cheeks burning.

“Have you...have you spoken to Louis?”

Zayn smirks again, and Harry doesn’t like how transparent he feels.

“Honestly, I haven’t. I’m sure he misses you though.”

Harry bites down a smile that he can’t help. “I miss him too.”

“You should tell him.”

Harry meets his eyes, brows furrowed. “That I miss him?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “That you love him, obviously.”

Harry gapes at Zayn a moment. “I dunno. I don’t want to like… scare him, or—”

“Harry, you could tell Louis that you shit fire, and he’d just ask you to show him.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Zayn laughs. “I just mean you really couldn’t scare him off. Trust me on this. You’re stuck with him unless you tell him you never want to see him again. He’d respect that.”

“He doesn’t think that’s what I want, does he?” Harry’s heart sinks at the idea.

“Just talk to him.” Zayn shrugs and turns the corner to the kitchen. Harry hears the sound of the sink and assumes Zayn is grabbing a glass of water before heading back to bed. 

When he rounds the corner, Harry catches his eyes, hoping for a word of encouragement or any idea of what to  _ say _ to Louis. Zayn spares him a glance and lifts his water. “Cheers, mate.” 

He disappears into Liam’s room, leaving Harry forlorn and frustrated. 

 

When Harry wakes up again on Liam’s couch he feels cold. It all feels too much like the last time he ran away to Liam’s, and Harry had never wanted to revisit this feeling. It feels like his entire life is hanging in the balance. But this time, it’s his own fault. He’d known what he was doing. 

It was the light. The moonlight had shone through the thin curtain on Louis’ window and it had illuminated some of Louis’ best features. And that  _ damn _ movie always gives him crazy ideas. And then Louis had sat and he’d listened to him, and he’d sympathised with him and Harry just couldn’t bear the idea that no one yet had kissed Louis like they’d meant it. He’d  _ had _ to. Harry honestly couldn’t have seen that moment going any other way. 

Harry is eager to leave Liam’s that morning. He doesn’t have to work until ten, but he can’t do any more wallowing. He needs to sort through the mess in his brain and find the words to tell Louis. He decides to take a walk to clear his head first. 

To the surprise of probably no one, Harry’s feet bring him directly to Louis’ flat. He tells himself it’s because he left a couple of books there that he has to return to the library. He knows Louis isn’t there, but he still feels a small rush of nerves when he sticks Louis’ spare key in the door, half afraid and half hoping he’ll find Louis waiting for him inside. As expected, the living room is completely empty. A half finished mug of tea sits on the counter by the door. Harry feels warm and his whole body loosens from just being in this place.

Harry always thought that if some place had a distinct smell, you only remembered it if it wasn’t pleasant. Louis’ flat smells great. It smells like home. It’s still laced with morning fuzz as the sun peers in through the shades in the living room. Niall probably got in late last night, so Harry takes each step with care as he walks through the creaky hallway straight to Louis’ room.

Louis’ bed is unmade as always and Harry sits down on the side farthest from the door. He sighs and lets his head fall to Louis’ pillow. Harry’s books are on the other side, and he knows he should just stand up and grab them, but Louis’ pillow smells like him and Harry misses him a lot. He decides to shuffle over to what’s become his side and smiles when he can smell Louis on his own pillow. Maybe Louis misses him too.

Harry thinks for just a moment that he should be afraid. It’s just the smallest twinge of guilt resting in his gut. He’s not supposed to know this feeling so closely—the feeling that comes with someone new. New eyes and new lips and new hands. He’s not supposed to have a new favorite laugh, or a new favorite smile or a new anything really. The only thing that should still be new is learning to be alone.

All of it should make Harry panic and run. It should make him curse at the sky for giving him a “soulmate” who could never love him the way he needed and then taking it all away. He should be angry and bitter and hurt and lonely. To be fair, he’s felt those things in the last few weeks and months. But even before it ended, Louis had softened the blow of it all. Louis had laughed with him and held his hand and even cried with him. In a lot of ways, Harry had taken all the love he had left and given it to Louis. It’s overwhelming to realize how much Louis had managed to return it with the extra love Harry had so desperately needed.

He has to tell him. He’s not sure if it will mean anything at all. Louis probably isn’t interested in being someone’s new forever. But Harry knows that his life will be empty in a way he can’t imagine if Louis’ not in it, and Louis needs to know that Harry’s on his way there. If that’s not what Louis wants, he needs to say it before Harry falls over the edge.

Harry remembers the task at hand and turns to lie on his stomach, pushing his top half over the edge of the bed and bending to peer under it. He sees his books, but there’s other shit too. He chuckles when he sees all the wrappers and a few papers Louis probably had kept for work. He sees a few books on Louis’ side as well, and though he can feel the blood rushing to his head, he tries to read the titles from where he is. He gives up when his eyes start feeling like they’re being pushed out of his head and grabs his books before pulling himself upright. He pushes himself up off the bed and goes to sit on the floor on the other side. He reaches under for the books Louis’ kept. He pulls out the first title and his heart lurches. It’s a copy of William Wordsworth—the same one from book club. Harry smiles as he opens it up and flips through the pages. That little bitch had said he’d hated Wordsworth.

He knows he has time to kill so he takes his time flipping through the poems, trying to recall what was said about them. He remembers which were his favorites and lets his fingertips run across the words gingerly. There’s something hopelessly endearing and even comforting about finding this particular book under this particular bed. He feels utterly affected by each word simply because of where he found them.

He’s content there, on the floor by Louis’ bed, reading poems and remembering the familiar voices of his fellow book club attendees. He remembers Lottie’s affection for the mysterious Lucy in Wordsworth’s poems, and the kinship she’d found with Michael when he’d chimed in to agree. He remembers Elaine and chuckles when he remembers her confession to setting the poems down and reading a mystery novel instead. He remembers Louis’ stubborn indignance, and how even then, Harry could tell that under the  sarcasm, Louis had cared. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have opened his mouth at all.

That might be what has him feeling afraid. Louis talks literally all the time. And when Harry had really wanted him to, he’d been silent. But still, he knows that even when his words had been exasperated complaints about  _ the Prelude _ —Louis had cared. Louis has an opinion because he  _ cares _ . He can’t seem to help it. Ordinarily, Louis has no problem sharing his thoughts, but this time he had. It had felt different in a significant way. But maybe he’d been silent because his words would have come from a place much more vulnerable.

It’s reinforced, then  — the sinking feeling in Harry’s gut that says he needs to tell Louis  _ right _ now. He won’t bother him at work, but there’s a heat under his skin that makes him desperately want to. He’ll do anything to get the words out into the world right now. The tipping point is approaching quickly, and if Louis doesn’t feel the same, if his uncertainty and silence were implicative of platonic feelings, Harry needs to know right now.

He turns his attention back to the book in his lap and flips a couple pages to avert his brain. He lands on a poem he remembers fondly.  _ Mutability _ . He runs his fingers over the page again, but with a different sort of reverence as he revisits the words.

He had clung to this poem when he’d first read it. He’d felt an instant attachment to it. So often in his life, he’d let the words of poets soothe him in place of the hug he would have preferred. He remembers this deep ache that he’d let sit and simmer for far too long. He remembers hiding the books that had meant the most in a place only he could find them. He feels a familiar pull at his heart, a clench in his chest as the gravity of his situation hits him.

It’s not the first time. God knows the somber nights on Liam’s couch provided more than enough reflection time. But reading this poem at this moment feels more like an out of body experience. It feels  like visiting the very first time he’d read it, and the feelings of hope he’d drawn from it. His eyes linger on the last line as he remembers what the “unimaginable Touch of Time” had meant to him at that time in his life. Time is an unstoppable force, but he’d still believed that its worthy competitor was love. He’d believed that it meant love could only grow—that even time could not defeat it. 

But as he reads, the poem takes on a whole new life for him. He reads lines like “truth fails not” and imagines the description of frost, knowing it doesn’t stand a chance when the sun comes out and something shifts. His whole world feels a little different, just a little lighter. Or maybe he does, because silently, he admits that when Louis showed had up, Harry had never really stood a chance either.

It’s funny when Harry’s revelation regarding a poem about the passing of time is followed by a day that just won’t seem to end. His to do list is shorter than usual, and the library is quieter than it’s been all week. Marge asks him if he’d like to leave early three times, but Harry declines each time because he might go mad trying to entertain himself until five o’clock. At least here he can look through a book or two, or talk to Marge, even if both of those options leave him knocking his knees together impatiently.

When the hands on the clock  _ finally _ point to the numbers that he desperately wants them to, Harry clocks out with a kiss to Marge’s cheek before practically running out the door. He doesn’t slow his pace when he hits the pavement, and still doesn’t when he climbs the stairs of Louis’ apartment building. He only slows a little once he reaches Louis’ floor, if only because running upstairs was more exertion than he’d been prepared for. As he gathers his breath, he feels his heart beat harder in his chest. He can’t distinguish if it’s racing from his jaunt or if it’s a complement to Harry’s twisting stomach. Probably both.

He takes his time walking to the door of Louis’ flat, trying to even out his breathing. Confessions like this are hard enough when you’re breathing evenly. Once he makes it to the door, he has every intention of knocking. Everything so far is playing out exactly as he’d pictured it. Though not imagining any further than his knock on the door might have been a mistake. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, or how Louis’ even going to react, or what he can say to pretend it never happened if Louis doesn’t feel the same.

He’s nearly talked himself out of knocking at all. He wants a moment to walk around the building a few times and decide exactly what he’s going to say, but before he can walk away, the door opens. Harry stands there, completely aghast, but is met with a familiar grin and a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry!” Niall greets gleefully.

“Hey Niall,” Harry mumbles.

“Haz, I am so glad you’re here. Come inside. I was on my way out, but Lou should be home soon.”

Niall pulls Harry in by the shoulder and Harry considers running away while Niall’s grip is loose. Instead he follows Niall inside and lets the door fall shut behind him. Niall’s still grinning from ear to ear as he pulls Harry into a hug.

Niall pats Harry’s back a few times before letting go. “Lou’s gonna be so glad to see you.”

“Will he?” Harry asks. 

“‘Course he will.” Niall frowns, confused. “He was so fuckin mopey this morning.”

For a moment Harry thinks he feels guilty, but it’s just a byproduct of his relief. “I think I might be a little in over my head.”

Niall shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid. Just tell him.”

“Tell him what exactly?”

Niall rolls his eyes but chuckles a little. “You already know the answer to that. I’ve really gotta go, but tell Lou I love him, will you?” He ruffles the top of Harry’s head and winks. “After you tell him yourself, of course.”

Niall’s past him and cackling on his way out the door before Harry says, “Hey!”

Harry looks around at the now empty flat and chuckles a little in spite of himself. He’s here and Niall’s seen him, so there’s really no turning back. He decides to take a seat on the floor in the living room. He’s weirdly nervous about being in plain sight whenever Louis walks in the door. He waits a few minutes, the anxiety ebbing and flowing, and Harry taps his fingers against his knee. He wonders how much time he actually has, before reaching to the coffee table where he’d left Louis’ copy of  _ Mansfield Park _ . He’s nearly finished, and he could use an Austen style happily ever after right about now to keep his optimism up. 

Seconds after Harry shuts the book in conclusion, he hears a key in the front door.

He should move. He could stand and extend a hand for Louis to shake. That would be extremely awkward  —  maybe a hug instead. Or he could just stand there and say it out loud as soon as the door opens. But in the seconds he’s taken to think it over, the doorknob twists and Louis is standing in front of him. His eyes are wide as he stands in the open doorway, and Harry might be concerned about the shock written all over his face if he wasn’t so happy to see him.

“Hey, Lou.” He smiles, shyly, hoping that maybe he looks just the right amount of excited without giving himself away.

“Hey,” Louis says, softly. He takes a step and lets the door fall shut behind him. Harry watches him set his travel mug and keys on the counter before decidedly walking straight to where Harry sits and falling gently to the floor beside him.

Louis looks sad and Harry wants desperately to know why. He feels so much joy and comfort being here with Louis—he can’t imagine why Louis is reflecting the opposite. He bites at his bottom lip and reaches out to touch Louis’ thigh. It’s a barely there graze of his fingers, but it gets Louis’ attention. He looks up and Harry tries to smile, though he can’t help the sympathy he feels on seeing Louis so distraught.

“I came to talk.”

Louis nods, his lips set downward, eyes weary.

“There’s just some stuff I have to, erm,” Harry sighs. “Stuff I have to say.”

Louis is silent, and the air around them feels heavy and sad and all wrong. Harry wants to lift whatever cloak has found its way over top of Louis and bring back his favorite ray of sunshine. He wonders if he should keep his feelings to himself after all. Surely Louis saw this coming—everyone else did.

He opens his mouth to speak but Louis interrupts him.

“Before you do. Say stuff, I mean. I just.” Louis takes a cleansing breath. “Harry, I’ve got some stuff to say too, and if I don’t say it first then you might never know, and I can’t live with that.”

Harry is too stunned to speak. He watches a new determination set in Louis’ bones as he turns to face Harry head on.

“I know you probably think what happened was a mistake. I know you came here to say it was a moment of weakness and that you’re sorry.” It hurts Harry to know Louis thinks so, but Louis won’t let him correct him. “But I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry at all. And maybe it’s too soon and maybe I’m royally fucking all of this up but you just—  _ I _ just really love you. And you deserve to know that. I love you and I’m not sorry we kissed because I want that with you more than I’ve ever wanted it with anyone before.”

Harry tries to school his expression, but he’s shocked. It’s hard to know exactly how to respond when he’s not even sure this is really happening. Louis smiles sadly.

“I  _ am _ sorry if this is too soon. I’m sorry if I’m not respecting the timeline of your recovery or whatever and spewing my feelings all over you before you were ready for them. The last thing I ever want is to hurt you or scare you. But I can’t imagine my life without you. It’s only been a day, and it’s felt exactly like the life I can’t live. I don’t want to live another day without watching you scrunch your nose up at a book, or making you laugh just after you’ve gotten teary at it. I hate walking home alone now and if I have to endure a book club meeting without you there to listen to me make fun of Nick, then what’s even the point?” 

Harry’s eyes fill with tears. Happy tears. Love tears. Louis reaches for his hands and squeezes them. 

“But I know,” Louis starts, tears of his own beginning to show. “That I may be asking you for a lot. I know you may not be ready. Now or ever. So like… I’ll back off if you need me too. I’ll give you space and I won’t push my feelings on you because the last thing I want is for you to say you love me back just because you don’t think you have a choice. I just can’t keep falling in love with you without you realizing it. It hurts too much.”

Louis looks terrified, as one only can when they’ve exposed their entire soul to another person. Harry can’t help his tears, though he hates the way they make him look. He doesn’t know how to process everything Louis’ just said whilst looking incredibly happy about it. He  _ is _ happy, but he’s also very overwhelmed with relief and so much the same of what Louis’ said.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but he chokes. He feels like an idiot and Louis looks so upset. Harry reaches out then and scoots closer. Louis looks confused, but relieved as he allows Harry to wrap his arms around his middle. Harry squeezes and sets his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“I really missed you,” he says, and he feels Louis tighten his grip a little.

“Was it too much? Did I say too much?”

Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it back. His confession just got exponentially easier, but how is he supposed to follow that?

“What stuff did you need to say? What did you need to tell me?”

Harry wants to melt in the sincere love laced in that lovely rasp.He sniffs a little before letting go and sitting up.

“I read this poem.”

Louis furrows his brows, confused. “Okay?”

Harry has no idea how to explain it. He could go on and on about how Louis had been  _ there _ when the frost had melted off of him, had kept him warm and safe and  _ changed.  _ He could tell him how he thought this poem meant that things would get better because they had to, and that he’s realizing it means people change because they can’t help it, and through all of those changes Louis was there. He could tell him about his experiences with melancholy chimes and the rise and fall of his life without anything really changing until he’d met Louis. He could say all of this, but he knows it wouldn’t make any sense unless he read the poem.

So, crazy as it seems, he gets to his feet. He feels awful leaving Louis in such suspense, but really, he can’t say it as well as Wordsworth can. He retrieves the book from under Louis’ bed.

When he comes back and takes his spot beside Louis on the floor, this time Louis is staring at him with his mouth gaping open.

“How’d you know I had that?”

“I found it,” Harry shrugs. “I found it and I read this poem.”

He opens it to the right page and hands it to Louis. “Will you read it?”

Louis nods and takes the book into his own hands. Harry watches as his eyes sweep over the page, his brows furrowing deeper as he tries to comprehend it. Harry notices when his eyes start back at the top, and wants desperately to know what’s running through Louis’ mind.

“Will you read it out loud?” Harry asks.

Louis nods, and starts again at the top, this time reading aloud.

“ _ From low to high doth dissolution climb / And sink from high to low, along a scale / Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail; / A musical but melancholy chime, / Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, / Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care. / Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear / The longest date do melt like frosty rime, / That in the morning whitened hill and plain / And is no more; drop like the tower sublime / Of yesterday, which royally did wear / His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain / Some casual shout that broke the silent air, / Or the unimaginable touch of Time. _ ”

They sit in silence when Louis is done. Harry waits patiently for Louis to say anything, but the suspense starts to get to him. For the third time he watches Louis’ eyes scan over the poem again.

“What do you think?”

Louis looks up and sighs and gives the book back. “Honestly?”

Harry nods.

“I don’t get it.” Louis’ eyes dart downard, like he’s sorry.

Harry giggles.

“What?” Louis asks, humor glinting in his eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

Harry’s giggles escalate and he feels his whole body shake with it.

“Okay, okay,” Louis says raising both hands by his head, “I get it. You probably should’ve grabbed a Dr. Suess with similar themes and it would’ve been more my speed.”

Harry laughs harder at that and shakes his head, but Louis keeps going.

“In my defense, you did hand me a book of poems by a man I’ve never claimed to understand.”

“Then why did you even bother keeping this?” Harry dimples.

Louis smiles, a pretty blush on his cheeks. “Because I saw that you did.” 

“Really?” Harry asks, softly. That was… ages ago. Has Louis cared for him all this time? 

Louis nods and attempts to explain himself. He stammers through a sentence, but Harry doesn’t catch any of it. He brings himself to his knees and places a hand on Louis’ mouth to shut him up.  Louis stops talking but only because he’s started to laugh, probably because it’s awkward, but Harry’s just so enamored with this boy that he decides to stop thinking about it. He takes his hands off of Louis’ mouth and moves his face in closer. The impact is hard, but the kiss is soft. It takes a minute for Louis to stop laughing and get with the program but once he does, he kisses deeply. It feels like Louis could absorb Harry and everything he is at this point, and if he lived through it, he’d only want Louis to do it again.

Harry sighs and pulls away for a chance to look Louis in the eyes. He doesn’t want to leave him guessing, and he doesn’t want him to think that this is just a different mistake to him.

He stares right through him and sees someone as scared and affected as he feels. He pecks his lips again for good measure and sighs, hoping it’s enough.

“Did Wordsworth show you how to do that too?”

“No!” Harry cackles. “That was all me.”

Louis kisses him this time, pulling him in by the waist and savoring it. “You’re much more eloquent than he is. But I’d still like to know what he means.”

Harry sets down and holds Louis’ hands in both of his. “I didn’t bother to look up what he meant. But he helped me realize I’m falling in love with you.”

Louis smiles and rubs his thumbs along the sides of Harry’s palms. 

Harry smiles and continues, “Remember that bit in the end of  _ Mansfield Park _ where Jane Austen starts talking about ‘disdaining from the dates’ and whatever else? Because Edmund had lost all feelings for Miss Crawford at precisely the moment he was supposed to, just in time to marry Fanny?” 

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Is there a special part of your brain reserved for remembering all this stuff?”

Harry chuckles. “I literally just read it before you got here.” 

“That makes me feel better,” Louis laughs. “But yes, I do remember that for the most part.”  

“Well I want this. I want you. And I’m not at all concerned about the timing. I know you’re worried about it being too soon, and yes, I’ll need you to be patient with me. But that poem is right that… no one is immuned to time. It happens to all of us. It changes us. It’s already happening to me and to you. It brought us together and I think it’ll keep us together, because I can’t imagine any changes that I wouldn’t love. You’ve been so good… to me. And I’ve known you love me, though I didn’t know in what way. I knew you loved me because you’ve supported me and you’ve encouraged me so much. And I read that poem and I just knew that we were going to be okay.” 

“You got all that from some nonsense words strung together?”

Harry laughs, low and rumbly, “Yeah, basically.”

Louis leans in to kiss him again and Harry happily accepts. It’s amazing, to be kissed by Louis without any doubts or worries or fear hanging between them. 

They sit together peacefully, with everything out in the open. Neither of them really knows what’s next or how to proceed. But neither asks because the important part is already resolved. Regardless of the details, they’ll proceed together. 

And they do.

It’s messy in the best way. Harry’s hands are sticky from the strawberries he’s forced Louis to eat with him because it’s summer and he’ll settle for nothing else. Louis begrudgingly accepts every berry Harry offers him, and more happily obliges when he starts offering a kiss for every berry he can catch in his mouth.

When Harry thinks of the future, he’s sure certain things will stand out to him. Now, he thinks of this summer and he thinks of strawberries. He thinks of Louis, riddled with insecurities every time he hands over a new draft of the children’s book he’s writing  —  the pink in his cheeks when Harry tells him something he loves about it. He thinks of Louis’ tireless complaints about the summer heat, but how he  _ never _ denies a cuddle, even when he’s sweating. 

They fall into new patterns and routines, always dawdling around the library after Harry’s shift and finding something random to read aloud. They get shushed often, by anyone who comes in their path. Each night, they come home to eat and work on respective applications  —  graduate schools for Harry, and alternate employment opportunities for Louis. Sometimes they opt for a cuddle and a movie  —  often with their dearest friends. 

The day Louis turns in his notice to Simon Cowell is one of the greatest days of his life. They invite the lads over for dinner to celebrate, announcing that Louis’ accepted a position with a publisher in London. Close to where Harry hopes to attend graduate school the next fall. 

Neither could have predicted the way their lives would alter when they let each other in. They hadn’t known how much change they were capable of, but every time they feel that soft flicker of hope in their chests  —  illuminating the great things to come  —  they’re reminded of their own mutability. How far they’ve come is still inconceivable to them. And that’s likely why Wordsworth calls it “the unimaginable touch of Time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I'm a teary mess. I cannot imagine my life without these characters in it so now I'm a little at a loss for words. 
> 
> Thank you again to every single one of you that has shown this fic any love along the way. I hope you loved it.  
> If this story meant anything to you, if you enjoyed it, or have feedback you'd like to share, I'm more than happy to hear it. Comments and kudos are truly the highlight of my life. 
> 
> You can come always come say hello on [tumblr](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/) here and reblog the [fic post](http://haloeverlasting.tumblr.com/post/148073365969/mutability-harry-and-louis-meet-at-a-book-club) here if you'd like. 
> 
> See you next time. <3


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